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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=551967" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Faex Populi</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=551967" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Around me is a mass of morphing colours; <br>pink black white pink black<br>Around me is a dull shopping paradise; a graveyard, <br>subfusc, dead people with dead minds <br>scrambling around aimlessly, <br>wandering in that straight line, <br>to nothingness, somber. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=551967" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">They are all alive; but it is far too late. <br>They are owned by these terriying neon colours, <br>and their crude surroundings. But then again, they still say, let's go shopping. Because it's what they do best.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=551967" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Like a shop window, entrancing, untoucable. <br>Wondrous, splendiful. <br>Dull, dying, dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=551967" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I wear my old Tuesday socks on Friday; and<br>they say I'm going crazy.</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=Ballerina+With+Fins">Ballerina With Fins</a></strong></div>

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