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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.
Copyright ©
Sara Jama
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