I'm sorry I threw up
On your Louis Vuitton sneakers
In the back of your chauffeured BMW
Driving through the crumbling streets
Of Mexico City
On the way back
To your immaculate home.
Something was not sitting well
In my stomach.

You cannot see it, my love
But I am growing.
And soon I will be
So great,
So sprawling
That I may very well collapse
Under my own weight.
And you, my dear,
Will not be strong enough
To hold me.