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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=543016" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Morning After</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=543016" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">You mirror (not mirror exactly, but echo cho cho..) that flash<br>of hot tongue lash, swift as a simile in its bite, moving this<br>walking mess of indecision and (cold, cold) anxiety to tears<br>(and what(of the past present future) of the ghosts?) </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=543016" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Temper, temper you gotta lotta words as I do<br>and the lies and the falsities cascade like rolling credits in<br>my head. Of and not of this: trace the root back<br>to three then you have vulnerability</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=543016" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The science is there: all neurological and treatable<br>but in this labyrinth there are not only minotaurs: <br>there are spectres and the boogeyman - fear, or<br>so I've read. You as a metaphor, I as the <br>hyperbole. We move in ways unknown to me.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Julian+Sison">Julian Sison</a></strong></div>

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