This building came from the sun. It was constructed with all the melt that is here. This structure licks at its edges till they are smooths and curves till they are nubs. hacked this from molten guts and tried to squish and smash. These walls are are billows and flutterings packet with gusts of rushes solidified into all this ore. The sheen of chrome tried to escape an angular building once, tried expanding until breakage, when it died away the dead of it became this structure with all this corpse effort. The sun slips around this building not knowing how to grasp, trying to squeeze, but how do you envelope shroud. The schematics came from dead bubbles blown with rot air, ghost breath, gaseous silver and formed of diamond soap. This is splotch of a globule struck upon the world in a smearing blotch. try to capture god thought in gas form candy coated with extinct metal. this is a smoke of a building built from the pyres of tarnished gold rectangles. This is the sphere sedated and collapsed imitating the decay.

is the static snow or hail or the television constellations or visual dandruff/ or the TV tearing itself apart to confetti screens/ taking a microscope to its own image and zooming till it gets to the grains and the buzz and the shimmer and the hum/ why is this monitor shivering with nits and gravels/ is this what no image looks like when broadcast/ is this the machine's representation of nothing/ all the motions and moves at once/ how is the color seeped in/ how is it spread and dispensed/ go deep in the static and bring up what crawling underneath/ this noise shuttles the unnameable's out/ why is there even a noise embedded and embroidered within this image/ there should be a silence sewed in except there is an ambient spewing forth/ this is the scales and micro feathers of the beast and creature signaled into the houses/ this is its skin which is never seen as whole/ just fragments and bits and pixels/ this is pixels slowed in the hyper cut/ this is pixels not knowing what to do and improvising/ these are the representations of pause/ the dance of still and glitched/ this is the interruption stuffed in box/ this is forced fed to broadcasts through razor syntax tubes/ when the monitor tries to show you nothing it makes error and reveals all/ just like when satellite's stutter and out juts misfired data verging on the organically malformed deforms of reject and delete/ when you are outdated and expired these million prickings and dulled glitters show up and become the vision of the blind the mis-viewing of now/ this is the whole sights and seeing of the corroded machinations of inhuman objects/