Empty Spaces

There used to be a lamp here. It was right beside the bookshelf, I know it was.
But it's not there anymore.
As always, I look over the books before I sleep. There seem to be less of them everyday. But that can’t be.
Can it?
I can feel it all the time. Like the world is slipping out from under my fingers.
I just hope I can get a grip soon.
But this can't be.
I know I'm not crazy.
I know that the door was right there. I'm sure of it.
But not anymore. No, no, no.
Theres no more door.
The bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living room, the closets. They're all still there.
But the door to the hall no longer exists.
Guess I won't be leaving anytime soon.
Time to sleep now.
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Sleeping was a bad idea.
The closets are gone now. Along with my clothes.
But hey, it's not like I have anywhere to go.
The windows have started to fade.
They're still there, but its hard to see out them. If I concentrate hard enough, I can see the trees and the grass and the people that walk by.
Thank God they’re still there.
I don't know if I can say the same about myself.
Even more books are missing now.
And my nightstand is gone.
Sometimes, if I stare at the wall, I think I can see the walls move.
Not really move, but bulge, pulse.
Like water, only solid.
This can't be happening. Not no way, not no how.
I hope I wake up soon.
Because I'm feeling sleepy.
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The power's out now.
Water's gone too.
Along with the kitchen and the bathroom.
Its just as well. I haven't been hungry in days. And no food means no bathroom.
So good riddance.
I'm down to three windows now.
Used to be five, but now there are three.
The windows are important now.
All the light comes from them.
It's not that I'm afraid of monsters or anything.
It's just that everything disappears in the dark.
God help me, I'm not ready to go.
The bedrooms gone now.
Guess I'll be sleeping on the couch.
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Oh God.
The couch is gone.
Right out from under me.
It's all gone now. All of it.
It's just these four bare walls, my best chair, and one last window.
I've tried everything.
Must have spent hours ramming against the walls.
It hurts all over.
The window is fake. It must be.
It feels just like the wall.
Yet I still see the outside world.
There are less people out, and the trees don't move in the wind as much.
Or maybe its just in my head. Who knows any more.
The nail on my left pinkie has vanished.
I don't think it's in my head
I'm scared.
I pull my chair up to the window, and watch as the sun sets on the city.
Maybe I can wait out the dark.