Interrobang Poem – ?!

Interrobang Poem

Cognitive dissonance
with a twist?
And a spike!
Or is it a dagger?!

Twisting around in the folds of my brain,
the spike is vodka, or is it tequila…
Clarity.
Dissonant clarity.
Dagger twists and slashes open the folds
which I have fought so hard to keep shuttered.

Victorian shutters
conceal the madwoman in the attic.
They fly open from time to time;
flames and smoke and screams reveal and release the dissonant pressure.

The dissonance?
The clarity!
The fight for survival, a schema attacked.

Interrobang me hard, baby.
Then soft and gentle.
One is familiar, one terrifying.
The spike, the dagger, the twist
roils and burns and cleanses
this tortured soul.

Can the dialectical nature of this mind synthesize dissonance?
Produce anything worth preserving?
Or is it…?!
Nonsense.
Absolute, astute nonsense.