Just because it's free doesn't mean I'm not paying for it

The air settles between the
strands of her hair
Rising and falling from the ceiling
like the steady breath of an anxious patient.
She sits, naked--
a last minute confession scribbled on a chart
Half-covered in protesting tissue paper
tearing beneath the weight of moral reduction.
The room dissolves her.
She is the stiff, waiting room air
the sterilized sheets, the pre-packaged tools
that will soon invade the space she left.
Warmth in the words that ebb and flow
from the lips of those below but
the deflected questions bounce off the walls
sinking to the corner where the silence assumes
too much (of the truth).
The subject lies
The evaluation begins though
the room is empty.

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