The Scream (1893) by Edvard Munch
He noticed nobody listens...
may pillows gather at my feet
and pile their way to my head...
To P&Q
She said that I was too sad, too damaged...
Speechless is the word.
Poetry is too loud...
I imagine
a bird...
A samurai's strike, like in an oval,
jolts from one pivotal point to the other...
One must search music
deep in within, that one may...
I danced with the devil
not knowing it was...
The loneliest alley was the alley
everyone passing through...
Through the lenses of my tears
I turn on my eyes lucent chandelier...
Their numbers swelled as did the pride
Of those who sailed across the sea...
hear the duet of
your question and the silence...