The selfie.

I caught myself looking. I often think about what I’ll say, the difficulty of the moments. The tired laughs, insulting cries and rotten forgiveness that comes with each. I’ll aim to be as profound as I can, but fall miserably into obscurity. I’ll dream for relevance, but wake up in a pool of allusion.

Often I think about what happens outside my four walls, my tiny house with three windows and a door. My internal box, haphazardly wired with used bits and paste. I, like most, turn to a screen of desire — one that offers a turn at something I meant to do, something I need to confine in. Pour into the emptiness with me, but oh how full you are!

Diving into one, now another, two more, there’s so much to keep pace with. He, she, him, her, it, they, who, what, where, when, and why so many of us sway in a mindless direction gives us such promise.

Stare down. Miss face. Stare up. See pain.

Like a swollen vampire staring into a dark sun, life unravels in seconds. Missing out on all that matters.

Look up.

Take back your ignorance. Your selfish, committed, vomiting beauty. It’s hiding behind each like, comment, share and view. Ignore your self — loathe in others — it’s much more meaningful than that world around you.

You interconnected lush. Watch her disappear. Watch him pass by. Watch them not grow up. Watch it. Watch it. Watch it.

Fail your design.

And smile.