Tethered to Tension

I see cubist faces whose voices don’t match their lips

Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Tangled tethered tendrils
tighten tender thoughts,
tying knots in my head,
I tend to trickster sheep.
The days bleat together,
lost track of all the nights
spent thrashing through
this threshold shepherding
tyrannical tremors to sleep.

Tension unresolved,
a time traveling vagrant,
tomorrow strikes today
as the vaguest abyss.

Tension following tension
like shadows on the wall,
I see cubist faces
whose voices don’t
match their lips.

Tension visceral,
its tentacles trickle
doubt like melting
icicles in my veins.

Tension tenacious,
shapeless, aimless,
faceless, flagrant –
tension dangerous,
but I can’t hate it.
For if not for tension,
how would I awaken?

~DS