Over dullness of the banal, dried brown blood <br />which passes under our echoed pacing footsteps <br />a dead dog's eyes shine tragic radiance <br />to eager hearts, blindly stumbling over themselves <br />in shows of humanity, as we sand dull plaster <br />to dried, caking river beds of conscience, <br />and the mouth's sweet bombast of music blares, <br />blotting out the harsher whispers of memory.<br /><br />Gus Schreiber<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alone-in-the-darkness-watching-television-of-course/
