a man lies in his bed in a room with no door he waits hoping for a presence, something, anything to enter after spending half his life searching, he still felt as blank as the ceiling at which he's staring he's alive, but feels absolutely nothing so, is he? when he was six he believed that the moon overhead followed him by nine he had deciphered the illusion, trading magic for fact no tradebacks... so this is what it's like to be an adult if he only knew now what he knew then... i'm open i'm open come in come in come in come in i'm open i'm open come in come in come in come in lying sideways atop crumpled sheets and no covers he decides to dream... dream up a new self for himself
