I take solace in shifting shadows
In illusions of light finding temporary harbor
On cream-colored walls.
I realize that backing the light leads me into the
Penumbra of my vanities – Broad shoulders
Tapered waist. Ripped muscles –
My perfection is hidden in shrouded images
On the walls of my mind
The mirror illuminates my insecurities.
Who would think that the focal distance
Of my self-esteem
Is directly proportional to the reflection of light
Off a silver coated surface?
I stand and gaze longingly at the mirror
Become trapped in a maze of flickering vanities
Lost in shifting lines and contours –
In a virtual reality of narcissism.
The stroke of nine from the wall clock
Brings me back to the projection of my flaws
And I recoil from the glare
Retreat into the shadows where
The illusions are ego-syntonic