Stern Broadcast

Upon my dusty screen
you park tired eyes of torpor
as though I were a sacred truth.
A divine muse.
A miracle.

Too often I’ve
shielded you from silence
and solitude.

My ever-changing circus of sights
suspends your animation
effectively
         insidiously
                   indefinitely
                             especially
when I am turned on for so long,
I no longer know the crackling static of
OFF.

If you continue to
abuse and overuse me,
I vow to hold you hostage:

Trapped in the timelessness of
light and sound and colour,
I'll leave you babbling
like a baby
at all my pretty, pretty
pictures.