The Scream (1893) by Edvard Munch
He realized there...

No one stands for the truth anymore.
Coward’s necks are back to their turtle shells...

<<One should know of the illustrated book: "The...
They sounded so ostentatiously strong...

Tell me why flowers
do not last...

Such a strange affair,
between here and there...

Your unsheathed thorns and
my laceration are why...

All the truth
is hidden in the moments of a bird silence...

Clouds split where we touch,
Everlasting sprinkles shine...

Life is a guitarist
who has never owned a guitar...

When I write something
I make sure that I'm written...

For the nurses they are old lesions
but for the patients...

In the rainbow boxes of preference,
they each are...