23/07
“They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, “No, no,
no” ”
Amy Winehouse
A
heartbreaking and hurtful voice emerges from the basement of addictions
as lightning
flashes and shouts: No, No, No
the impetigo
makes of its own again and the implacable mirror only reflects the cruelty of
the moment each new image lacerates the pupils again and again
Amy, prefers
to play the piano, her guitar and get away from the everydayness
in each of the
melodies that resonate like rocks in her head
Instead of
entering in a room with walls and giant foam rubber pillows
shouts: No,
No, No every time they
insinuate rehabilitation
Camden Square
has witnessed her adventures
of the
incessant crackles of each night awake
of each
faint of each return
of the anxiety
hive in which she lives now
of the
messengers and the multiple packages that arrive
of each bottle
that starts and each bottle that runs out
of the ruthless
furrow that each of her steps are gradually leaving in the corridor
of each tear
that erases the makeup of another cycle that is leaving
of each time
she runs her fingers one to one on her tattoos
from when she
looks and overlooks on that same mirror the space left from the teeth that now
are missing
from the same
shouts that now are repeated like a terrible mantra: No, No, No
the paparazzi
flashes lurk each window of house number 30 and they delight as they wish like hyenas
in behold of their prey yellow
journalism possessed excrement covered in the mist
of a handful of pounds
one July
morning –at 27-she wanted to become a mother but didn’t understand when her
boyfriend through the phone said a thousand times: No, No, No
that night on
the 23rd, in her elytron
distress she just preferred to show everyone her middle finger and bathe the
consciousness in liters of vodka.
Translator: Clara Isabel Salas
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