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!
They fight for survival, those schemas attacked.

Interrobang me hard, baby,
then soft and gentle.
One is familiar, one terrifying.
The spike, the dagger, the twist –
it 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.