Better When I'm Yelling...

I have only ever read this piece out loud, mostly because I enjoy having the opportunity to scream at strangers, but I also felt that level of despair wouldn't translate quite right on a page. I typed it out recently, though, just to see.... I think I was wrong. Of course, it's never the same reading it to hearing it, but I shouldn't deny one method for my own personal preference... so here it is!


Maria, Maria

Maria, Maria,
Wouldn’t want
To be ya.

So beautiful
They all could
Eat ya…

Maria, Maria…

You tap a counter top
A marble so cold
Worth its weight in gold
The sound—it sounds the same
No matter how many lines
& curves it can bounce over.

It’s echo.
It’s void.
It’s there.

Where is it?

Maria, Maria…

They all wanted
A piece of ya.
They rummaged—
They’re rubbish.

Maria, Maria…

There ain’t a lot-a
To ya, but
There’s a lot
Of to-ya
To sort through.

You are a rat in a pot
Of boiling water with
It’s stomach popped.
You are a sink rag.
You are a floor rag.
Your stomach is tight.

Maria, Maria…

They all thought
They could fix ya
When all ya could do
Was run.

They caught ya
& put ya down soft
On comforters.
They built up their walls
Strong—around ya
They all longed
& left behind
All their big tools
That were meant for you.

Maria, Maria…
Ya just wanted to fill it.

Maria, Maria…
Its always coming
Back to ya.

Maria, Maria…

MARIA, MARIA…

MARIA! MARIA!

SO LOUD
YOU COULD SMASH IT
WITH YOUR BIGGEST
FUCKING HAMMER!

MARIA!

MARIA!

MARIA!

SHATTER—you did just that.

Maria, Maria…
So beautiful
None of them
Could see ya.

Maria, Maria…
Wouldn’t want
To be ya.