the scream

the scream
the spot
the light
the pain,
some veins are empty
some veins are pumping
imprecise poison
indistinct omissions of life.

the stain
the time
the way
this crane is dead
this brain in threat
with vague poison
with vague omissions of life.

and abruptly

everything stops

suddenly...

the poet is dead...


no tears...
no drops
no blood
no air.


in clay he dissipate his body...
in a meta-end, one more restless soul he became


may gOD finally bless me now...


finally in this start.


br1

The Scream - Edvard Munch