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You're showing off your belly
Your sexual intercourse
Poked like bulged eyes
from beneath your woollen white shirt
dotted with sneering smileys
You are proudly parading
alongside my bony wistful motion
Your triumph pulsing underneath your heart
You have spunk
You have working ovaries
While I do not
And you're smirking from beneath your wedding veil
Gorging yourself on kisses of your soul mate
Your twin
not unlike you in appearance
In the outlook on life
In a body structure
In a sense of humour
You glimmering couple in the distance
Guzzling cakes and wine no end
Don't be so proud!

I'm wearing dungarees
of my insecurity
The pockets of which
are bursting with pincers, pliers and shears
and other nouns
- making grammatical life a difficult dance
- mending my precarious situation
Knocked off the table of a homemade marmalade kingdom
I am screaming at the top of my lungs
Like Björk on the summit of Iceland's mountains
While opening her chest with fingers
- Tapping on experimental musical instruments
- Sliding rims of glasses
- Sledging pistes of expressive triphop affection
While her womb is disclosing
her inner secrecy and intimacy
I am opening the lid of my grave
of longing and courting
With my pink bonnet
from the forgotten centuries
Waiting for your blatant strength
Againts which
My stability is propped
If only you wanted
After an indulgent night of drug abuse
Smuggled from Mexico's huts
Hidden in Mexican circular hats
Spinning spinning spinning
Like yo-yos
making me dizzy
But not empty of you,
Which I long to be
Hungry
Peckish
Weak
Dead
No feeling
I beg and I bet
Your ghost won't let me... be.