I am not sure what inner compulsion first drew me to the gallery to view the painting.
As I stood before the picture a giddy light headed nausea struck me as if I was feinting.
Suddenly I was falling uncontrollably spinning and whirling in to the mouth of the Scream.
Down, down, deep in to the large cavernous mouth I fell as if caught in a terrible dream,
I was swallowed deeper, deeper, the sheer dread felt ready to erupt in volcanic violence.
The terror constricted my throat until finally it gave vent to a lingering scream of silence.