The mess is compounding and the fits hurt,
Striking at the little hope he has left.
The building of anxiety leaving him curt,
Making him lost and bereft.

The insanity wrecks his brain, prying apart
His reality that wrestles his shanty feelings
In a poor, frenetic psychological go cart
Racing wildly in all of his dealings.

The spiral tumbles onward,
Composed illogically in neurons and hormones.
He will stumble, falling neither back nor forward,
Until sanity leaves him alone.