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...

Your unsheathed thorns and
my laceration are why...

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

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

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

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

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

You were digging deep
for flaws in me yet you...

Whatever starts must
also end. Whatever ends...