In these nights <br />when the hellhounds are bound <br />to sleuth and slaver, <br />to bark upon the stench <br />of wounds that remained open <br />with anguish and with blood <br />(But nothing permeates <br />the hollow dome of silencen <br />I feel the sea surge <br />it abysses to its surface <br />and louder than your blunder bluss <br />I shiver for this calm <br />and unlimited pretense <br />that inexorably gravitates <br />a sudden madness<br /><br />Norman Santos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/impermeable/
