The Scream Painting by Edvard Munch 1893
Turpentine waters of paranoia ripple beneath an opaque surface, merging with the burnt umber sun, ravenously setting over the savage distance. Did the earth just crack open within its core...? An ungovernable fear hastens— up my spine tracing each vertebra meticulously, as the flavor of iron and burnt charcoal plates my tongue— leaching into semi-paralyzed bronchi. Each breath of stained oxygen gets harder to inhale— Hypoxia, smiling mechanically, rears its ugly head... and the tips of my fingers turn from porcelain to ultramarine. Trying to scream— yet silence is all that escapes. A plethora of thoughts buzz— like a horde of bees within my mind. If the earth did crack open, then why is everyone acting so nonchalant? Conspiracy theories ruminate; paranoia-fueled delirium takes full control. Consumed by panic, abdication of rationality unfurls— amongst the receding world.
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The Scream Painting by Edvard Munch 1893