STATIC

A TV screen,

Shows a TV screen.

A grey and white, pixcellated wash of nothing.
Funny how,

It is all buzzing, crazy motion,

Grey and white soundless bees,

Smashing endlessly into each other,

All lost,

Thinking the next collision will lead them to the queen.

The way out of this monochromatic mess.

And yet it’s name is static.
Crazy how something so chaotic,

Can have a name that is the very opposite of chaos.
The TV screen,

Shows TV screens forever.

Endless grey and white atoms of nothing.

Bombarding the glass screen that is the end of their universe.

Contained,

And yet writhing and seething like a sea of dead, unformed images.

How strange that it mirrors life.

For as life,

It has chaos at its very core,

But is static.

Still.

Contained.