Colors stained on static
Are trapped inside a box.
They flood the room in panic.
Buttons work stronger than locks.
They feed upon the eager eyes
That gladly let them in.
But first they feed them eager lies
That saturate the skin.
Wires and sparks communicate
Through whispers on a line.
The static baits and tears away
Awareness from the mind.
Senses go on overload
As they enter a haze.
One no longer really knows
Two hours from two days.
Wake up, wake up! Stop listening
To visions hinged on glass.
Let organs stop their flickering
And see what's come to pass.
The static's gotten out again
And drowned part of the day.
It's best they don't come out again
For a while, anyway.