Gentlemen!
I ask for silence in this sacred dump.
Not to pray —
I’m here to scream a damned memory
that won’t leave my chest even after three shots
and half a liter of forgetfulness!
Why — Oh, tell me why! —
why didn’t I hold her that night?
That night of all nights!
Yes, she came back!
She came back one last time!
She had those… those eyes of forgiveness,
though already so tired,
those tiny hands of redemption.
Not even that cursed smile
that once taught me to love
and condemned me to hunger
was on her lips.
I, gentlemen — miserable!
Ah! What a miserable wreck I was! —
lay on the bathroom floor!
Yes, fallen like a stray dog,
pathetic as I always was!
And she came to fetch me from the abyss
with a gesture,
mute, defeated too,
with that kind of presence
that only the wretched know how to recognize!
And me… I,
who had the so-called knife and butter in my hands,
I, who thought I would be
the most wonderful lover in the known universe
for being “not like the others,"
I…
I didn’t go.
I trembled.
I trembled so much.
My friends! I stayed silent!!!!
And so, gentlemen —
so I lost the last chance that was given to me!
And today, oh drunken heavens,
I relive that scene like a convict relives his crime!
Schizophrenia gnaws at the guts of my mind.
Too many voices now,
eyes on the walls,
the shaking,
the uncontrollable gestures,
the screams, the howls,
the enormous sobbing.
The cold tile,
the crooked mirror reflection,
the dripping faucet,
the machines in the ceiling,
a clock that mocks me without mercy!
Why, tell me,
why does this woman — this venom
with a first and last name
in two languages, no less, two! —
still parasite my dreams?
Why won’t she let me live,
drink,
or die in peace?
I call her a parasite, yes!
But ah!
If she walked through that filthy door right now,
and said,
“I’m here. Now go.”
— I would love to go.
I, the fool, would love to go.
But now I am far too sick
for such foolish things.
So let’s drink.
That was it.
Thank you very much.