This is the life-affirming moment
in that it's ending.
You're the asshole in your home's mirror.
Your house is open to all, so you feel unwelcome.
Nothing comes out from dusting,
Your fingerprints all over this.
Your exes touched you with gloves
before washing their hands.
Friends go by and tke a whiff of freedom
that can't afford a cable bill.
You're hoarding hope, and it's time you stopped.
Leave your door ajar and they will seal you in.
It's where you're meant to wait for death.
Impatient, you wait for work every morning.
At night, you come back past the point
where anyone peeks behind curtains.
Here behind closed doors, you catch on,
cataloging what will be thrown away.