Cold Diet Coke Administered intravenously Injected into my veins And fueling my anxiety. First, it was only a few Drops to keep me ready, But now it's full gallons And even that's not quenching.
People always ask me, "Why push milligrams and ounces Of cold Diet Coke? It'll make you choke. After time, you'll croak. You're such a stupid bloke, Pushing Diet Coke."
To this I have to say that you Are quite mistaken, sir. I only do it because I am Addicted to the tiny bubbles In my fizzy bloodstream. I know it's very dangerous, But I haven't died quite yet. I might just try some other kind To fix my upset stomach.
"Zero calorie soda, Amazing as it is, Though it tastes delicious to you, Isn't healthy food. It's gonna cause an issue. You're still depressed and blue. Your face is green in hue."
Again I must say you lie To steal my fleeting happiness. I need the drip, drip, dropping through My swiftly closing arteries. I don't have much time left, And I'm at Death's bright doorstep. I'm taking my final breaths, And I'm on my deathbed.
I just want to tell you You made me do this. It's your fault. You're to blame. Yours is the shame.
You outlive yet another son. You could've saved this one. My chances are slim to none. I approach the glistening sun As the fungus and rot outrun The weight of death o'er a ton.
Bottles of carbonation And bottles of tears, Bottles of death wishes And bottles of jeers, I've bottled all the nasty looks People've given me over the years. Now all that's left to get over Is all of my worthless fears.
Bottles of carbonation sit silently Humming and buzzing beside me, Sitting open on my nightstand as I Avoid conversation with the Other hundreds of people who try Desperately to strain to reach Me before my wounds ooze pus And blood and Death comes to reap.
Drinks keep me alive through his pain It now courses through my veins. It's why I twitch when hearing my name, One final desperate gasp of breath Before I succumb to painful death.
Hello happy hour! I see you're now reduced to fifteen minutes of soft drinks and smiling depression: simper and wine. check that...Sprite.
But I'll drink to nagging doubt anyway.
Cars are now a kick. Who knew gridlock could offer such joyride: the drive home each day my ******* sabbatical.
I wrote 3 letters the other day (the handwritten, paper kind) and feel a little like Jane Austen. I think she'd like Dr. Pepper, but not Mr. Pibb. Too foppish.
Then there's this: the wax and wane of life between the bed and the couch. There's six degrees of separation through the five layers of this reusable face mask.
Speaking of masks: "one for the money, two for the show, three to make ready and four to go."
And somehow I know I will never breathe it in that way again.
Random curtain calls: I'm so starved for someone to talk to; the mail lady had me at "hello." I offered her a soda. Mail order catalogs are king. The Saturday Night Special from the burglar alarm brochure was my final good buy.
Having luck where I can achieve anything... Is like a young kid opening a bottle of their favorite bottled soda the day it first came out! Awaiting it's arrival like the coating of a nice breeze dancing throughout the company of skin coated with sweat. As the hairs with little droplets of already coated sweat came (as if a light drizzle fell over the field of endless rows of arm hair) not so long ago. Standing perfectly ***** as the sun blazes downward like a coating of sticky smog! Making the tips of the already (***** endless rows of arm hair) shine brightly with droplets bending light between it's different surfaces. Almost as if when looking through the pure liquid droplets, you see the inside of a crystal instead. A crystal fine layer with the inside of many warped and distorted angles. All the very uncomfortable effects may seem mildly dreary...at first. Except for the awaiting call of the miracle that is the sizzling bubbles popping within a still closed bottle cap of your favorite bottled soda! And that's where ALL the effects that may seem mildly dreary...at first, is usually because of the miracle that is on an "occasional" slight delay! Sincerely... The "luck" is in the young kids favorite bottled soda!
Luck isn't just impatient...when it's truly hungry full of vigor! Especially when it wants to thrive in a motion full of severity!
Cool and refreshing. It's the American noun For fizzy drinks, you know. A foamy relish stirs, The bubbles rise like verbs, swirl about, and Hiss at the surface. The faintest flavour of An adjective, something sweet and forgiving.