Munch
screams & screams
as he
turns into
his painting
trapped in there
for ever.
His human shape
goes on
(without him)
only an empty husk
that
passes for him.
No one even
notices
(he's gone)
not himself
no more
trapped in a thousand
reproductions
hung in a gallery
as the real thing
hearing nothing
only his own
...scream
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twilight-zone-for-byran/
