Thoughtvines.

Patches of thorns jutting from my sides,
Pummeling emotions from all around.
All self-control has laid aside...
No composure is left to be found.

Colors, voices, faces, sensations,
Corner down me at every hand.
Overtaken by seas of my own creation...
And caught between their shifting sands.

What figment of imagination-
So potent to make manifestation...
What rushing maelstrom of mind deployed-
Invites itself out from this void?

All impending deliberation,
Of every word, and every sin...
Form a sultry combination,
Into where a crooked step begins.

How do the two coexist?
Everlasting goodness, darkness of night?
How can they reside in the same foundation?
The actions of both be wrong and right?

The thought-vines are yet taking over,
Their grip afflicted in torturous pain.
Conjuring up a permanent wound,
And the bleeding words to keep me sane.