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...

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

Your unsheathed thorns and
my laceration are why...

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

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

Thus, whispered an hourglass in my ears:
No rock would ever survive the onslaught of time...

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

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