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...

Tell me why flowers
do not last...

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

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...

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

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

Whatever starts must
also end. Whatever ends...

Stretching our branches
to the prospect horizons...

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