i'm open

a man lies in his bed, in a room with no door.
he waits for a presence, something... anything to enter.
after spending half of 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 trade-backs.
so this is what it's like to be an adult...
if he only knew now what he knew then...

i'm open,
come in...

lying sideways atop crumpled sheets and no covers,
he decides to dream... dream of a new self, for himself...