It comes, sometimes so sudden
Like fog in the mountains,
Descending into every rise
And fall of the slopes and valleys;
Erasing all sense of up and down, as
The whole world turns a numbing white
Only it’s black, black and hot
As a burning sensation rushes to your head
And sparks of concentrated fire
Penetrate the space behind and
Between your eyes; leaving you
Reeling giddy, in the haze
It descends like a veil, and your
Limbs lose control; you sink sideways
Into the blaring noise of inner confusion,
The panic rising up as though
You’re in a maze of incessant dead ends,
And flames cut across all escapes
You want to scream, but lips don’t move
As your body freezes, trapped in its weakness,
Shutting off everything but the basics
To keep your heart beating;
And even then it’s only as lively
As a frail beggar, caught in drunken stupor
Helpless, there’s nothing for it but to wait,
Till your vision returns, and
The pounding in your head subsides,
Confining itself to the timid
Trembling of a weary heart;
Resigning itself to fate
Image: Edvard Munch, The Scream