Fragmented Pixels

you look at the strings of code

like they hold secrets of the universe,

the black and green melding into its own curse,

till your eyes are watery, red, and itchy.

the screen reflects your every twitch and quirk,

the haphazardry of your hair and the owlish glasses,

but at least it reads you real this late at night

(no, you really can't trust bathroom mirrors).

but it's almost midnight, a time for magic and mischief,

as the monitor hums its only form of saying yes or no.

perhaps it's a trick of the light, a spell from too much coffee,

but you think your reflection laughs and winks at you.

you shake your head, sure you're dreaming, till you see

the rainbow of colors dancing across the screen

and the computer is warm to the touch, like a friendly pet.

but then you shake your head and the vision is gone—

left to just a late night's daydream or a glitch of some kind—

even as you turn your head and the pixels wink before you go.

You can find more poetry and other writings just a click away.