i contemplate the reflection of the heavens
in the looking glass of the sliding deck door
(corporeal light of the sun
proves too brilliant for flawed eyes).

i scroll through life
with my thumb,
streaming consciousness.

my version of the world is better —
smiling faces and sky of clouds prettier —
in pixelated square photographs.

i don’t want to leave my room
because stepping into daylight
means no power to manipulate
the shadows i cast.