We walk the wrong way to work
every day, past Corrugated Way
and Lane, dogs in the distance,
and over the thick of laying still bodies,
cold throats with barely a bloom or voice.
Stomping our joyous feet through blood, our toes spreading in ecstasy
over the still running warmth. We kick at their hands
still holding picket signs or wavers,
clutching welfare forms and benefits packets,
some still clawing their way through south campus
to the registration offices with stained FAFSAs.

We tip-toe through the city garden, refusing to stop
and look at the girls in skinny plaid, ruined with other
colors, the ones with buttons on their breasts, ties on
their tongues and barely a whisper of an opinion in
their breath, they played bongos near the Cox Arboretum,
Nathan, their boyfriend wore a Grateful Dead t-shirt.

It isn't until we're running (futility,) dead sprint with galvanized veins,
bursting dirty swelled up cumming ugly through the copse
of red townies, that we're chased by gnarled dogs, hairless
patches and with barking Parvo, pawing wet and gruesome
through the streets and the garden and the arboretum.
We're at the gates then and we still can't see the dragged bodies,
only waiting for those dogs to sink their incisors into our gut
so we can run with the rest of 'em.
The second stanza was great, I loved it.

The first was messy, I felt like a few places here and there needed some cleaning up.

The last stanza was reminiscent of the first in that it was somewhat messy, but I enjoyed it far more.

As a whole, this was very entertaining. I was so glad that it said "Violins" instead of "Dreams #2" or something.

I think a few things in the first and last stanzas could be improved some way or another, for the sake of clarity and flow, but the second stanza is perfect. Don't ****ing touch that.