How far must I move from the bed
to prove I’m not dead, but awake?
Another body could offer evidence,
but then what value does life have
if solitude lacks substance alone
and truth is determined by democracy?
I was not the first to fall into fantasy.
I played with dreams like toys as others
made careers out of their conspiracies.
They have the right idea. I take life
too seriously. Gods, magical creatures,
and superpowers only I can feel.
I can embrace it all. I can make all dreams real.
The bed is but an object that senses perceive.
The only true reality is subjectivity.
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