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stutter and out juts misfired data verging on the organically malformed deforms of reject and delete/ when you are outdated and expired these million prickings and dulled glitters show up and become the vision of the blind the mis-viewing of now/ this is the whole sights and seeing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/