To Drunk Maria

An Ode To My Nemesis

You reckless extrovert,

you brave martyr, 

surrendering yourself to anything that makes you numb, 

dumb, transform to a dum hum:

ringing, a backdrop to all this noise. 

You recurring disaster, 

when will you stop tearing 

down walls in hope of one day destroying yours?

When will you show mercy 

to your audience, to yourself, 

to this ample draught you soak us with,

to the headaches and the bruises and excuses.

To forgetting and regretting and then 

doing it again. 

You intolerably broken record,

a playlist on repeat:

your worst hits, your mistakes on replay 

for god’s sake, give it up, grow up. 

It’s sickly watching all your prospects tangle 

into nothing, for the sake of 

a nobody’s lips, programmed

to cease to count.

You sad, sad case of nearly 

something, nearly

worthy of the morning, nearly

person, nearly 

being, nearly, but not quite 

whole.