Maria isn't a person.

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He lays his cigarette on the banister
the cold metal and the rain water
claim the ember, the glow melting
into a tiny hill of ash.
The ground and the walls quiver,
he's found a new friend,

and he likes it when he sees the world bleeding
he says he's afraid,
and from his eyes I believe him,
and he says he never wants to go back to her,
he says he's afraid but deep inside
he's already stuck with Maria.

She turns the ones you love into ballerinas
sobbing for your sake
stampeding about your body
what lovely dolls your loved ones are,
how miserable they are,
frustrated feet stamp out your name,
can't you hear the sounds?

I know a girl who contorted her face
with the clay of her emotions,
with red nails shaking against
the beige wood of the table.
smashing her heart against his heart,
asleep in a sheath found 'round your chest
this sheath is the river Lethe,
a dream of death, a lie of peace,
why would you ever to leave her side
for Maria, Maria, Maria.