My Heart is a Chainsaw: A Cento Poem
Remembrance and Revenge
KJ FrascellaTW: SA
Life’s a gamble and then you die.
It’s its own little closed system of punishment and reward.
All the eyes, all the attention…
They kind of make you feel like you’re already dead.
The time before she was born was mythic.
"Where can I take you, then?"
where do people who go with the flow always end up?
The drain, yes.
We all become history at some point or another.
The days don’t really matter anymore, do they?
The world blurry and getting blurrier,
bleary and blurry…
Kill the storytellers, kill the story.
The silence is amazing.
"It’s not over yet.”
Some girls just don’t know how to die.
it’s always a close call...
Everybody has a function,
this is her, this is what she does.
She wasn’t right in the head,
Her head full of bad ideas.
“The one who didn’t die all the way"
“The returning antihero.”
All the ceremony she needs.
"If nobody knows the story about your big wonderful house,
then it can just keep being big and wonderful, can’t it?"That’s easy to say from the armchair."This is real life. A tragedy, but it’s real
Without memory, there can be no retribution
Let the waters of judgment flow forth, down-valley."This is all fake for me.
It could wash right over her and she wouldn’t even notice.
A pair of pupils dilated well past mellow,
a victim of wishful thinking.“You can do this, you can do this.”She’s trying to make up for something.
Something that wasn’t even her fault.
Her head is what’s betraying her.
Her heart.
Her heart's a quivering bowstring.
Going slow, and knowing it’s hopeless from the get-go,
she tries to blink away the feelings… This isn’t the time for that.
Down and down and down,
blink the feelings away.
She hates shivering like this, showing weakness like this, having to have a body like this.
This is already happening like this, though.
The body’s gonna do what the body’s gonna do,
tears spill down both cheeks. Tears she fucking hates.I’m scared, terrified, I’ve woken up to a nightmare
(it’s like watching the story through a telescope,
a bird’s-eye view of history.)
The house is empty like the tomb,
The kitchen is empty, the living room still asleep.
Completely unaware,
her eleven-year-old self,
she’s in the shower again…
he’s washing her and he’s-
to make the nightmare complete.
The night is an embryo…
There’s something solemn about being awake when everyone’s asleep.
Everyone deaf to her cries.
Deaf when she cried.
There was definitely some real and unique pain in this lonely meadow.
Air thick with rot,
there are no flowers.
No excuses, no forgiveness.
Watch for buzzards.They sang until the waters swamped the town,
the whole world is sin… the whole world needs to burn.
Burning’s one way to get rid of a load of trash.Soar into the future.She’d saved it, kept it hidden…
It’s not just inside her, now, it’s out in the world,
it’s real,
it really happened.
This is real life. A tragedy, but it’s real.
She’s not supposed to have it all figured out yet, is she?
The real world doesn’t have to follow any special rules.It’s terrible because it means she can die…“It’s not over yet.”
The flickering glow is a fire.I can’t catch fire here.
She’s coming down to make her stand,
it’s an angel in a halo of blazing light,
when there are no frontiers,
you have to make them yourself.
Not exactly how I envisioned my return.
I’ve been waiting all my life.
Everybody has a function.
Inexorable, completely unstoppable,
the one who becomes rage,
shouldered through the smoke,
her lungs swirling with death,
not listening to excuses or apologies
there’s not one single one that could ever be even halfway enough.
Whether he remembers what he did or not
doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.Stop howling, listen.They shouldn’t have violated her at night.
Some things you just don’t touch.This is some kind of war.
Take the snake by the tail...And then the light’s gone...Got some red on me, yeah.
She could have done more.Thanks for digging me out.“It takes a village.”I guess I thought I was already dead, sort of.
Nature blasting out serene and pristine all around.
Consider me saved.