There is nothing in the fridge
But diet coke.
No one who lives in this house
Drinks diet coke
We all hate anything diet
Especially diet coke.
My dads girlfriend likes diet coke
But she doesn't live here
So why the hell is there so much
Of that **** in my fridge
The diet coke.
The only explanation is-
She must be moving in
With her diet coke.
Maybe I should tell her
Before she does
That diet coke gives you cancer
And actually makes you gain weight
Maybe then there wouldn't be so much of that **** in my fridge
******* diet coke.

On A Diet

The country is on a diet,
drinking coke with no sugar,
eating burgers with no bun,
running on the treadmill;
it's powdered protein for lunch.
It's straight tequila in the evening,
a light head and guilty fries at night.

The country is on a diet,
doing yoga over yoghurt pots,
training their minds with sudoku and solitaire,
rubbing salt and condition into their hair.
It's 6 a.m. gym sessions,
it's squats on the living room floor,
the country is on a diet, my friends,
and so we have no time for truth, or war.

The country is on a diet,
avocado in the breadcrumb,
aspirin in the salt-shaker,
food numb on the tongue
and those slim-shakes always failed to deliver.
Thigh gaps and mind-the-gaps,
all these signposts for a cleaner living,
no dust on the shelf,
no bags 'neath your eyes to hide
the lack of sleep
and your ailing mental health.

The country is on a diet,
drinking tea with no milk,
eating carrot sticks with best-value dip,
running on the treadmill,
we never get too far.
It's straight tequila in the evening,
it's "anything goes" in the dark.

Chocolate diet,
your hairs were too sweet, so you chose to dye it.
“Do you like it, “ you had to ask me, which I had to
admit, “I seriously Iove it.“ But I only could mind it.
In a diabetic coma, we were sleeping on sweet dreams
with your hair on my favourite pillow. A willow now;
your hair was now falling off. You tried to dye your age,
but how it looked before wasn’t really much the same.
Still wishing the old you could come back around again.

Coffee diet,
you’ve been grinding all of your life in continuous cycles.
“Can I have a break, “ you exclaimed to me, I couldn’t lie
to you, and pretend slowing down meant you’d have a break.
Baby test your brakes, just to ease yourself into rushing into
those familiar mistakes. There’s no shame I could put all on you.
Even when I’m trying to fix everything, not only for one of us.
But also fixing a fulfilling life for us two. But it’s all for you.

Cannabis diet,
we’re getting high on all of our wildest desires, and dreams.
Afraid of the heights, getting to the top of success as it seems.
Playing both sides of the spectrum of ideas. Can’t we work out
all of our issues as a team? The closest we are, to doing the
same kind of work. Your cooking up some stories, and I’m
cooking up a storm of my words. How soon till the kitchen gets
burnt? Bite marks under skins; getting on each other’s nerves.

Commitment diet,
tying ourselves around trust. But it passes the fine line
of making up, or passing around lust. Why does the love we’re
making, end off with me having to cuss? We’re playing it all a
little too rough. I can’t be explaining to workmates about my face’s
latest cuts. Must of been the feelings that radiated the first time
we met. But it turned into radiation, falling into a toxic combination.
Toxic relationships are only the ones people fall into blindly. But we
could see the disaster before, taking it ever so lightly. And so mildly.

Cuddle diet,
teddy bear kisses, calling me soft for falling so easily in love with
you. I had to borrow someone else’s glue to get myself stuck to you.
Listening too many times, to peers pressuring me to do things I
never really liked. But they were the ones to decide how far I should
jump, to reach up to their hype. Yet your friend’s excitement aren’t
there, when they see a close couple they know publicly fight.

Sigh,
I must be tired, and too full of myself to picture me the fool.
Drooling over love; waters of the flesh are only sweet in the
moment. But try yourself to enjoy the same taste, straight after
***.

Seriously,
why must we go around chasing loves, leaving us out of breath?
Following a length of measuring up to unrealistic values, and
ending up with less of your human strength. Regrets will fill up
your favourite plate. A diet of all of these things, somehow leaves
you bent out of shape. I was too busy chasing cake, but the flavours
of it, wasn’t something I could always taste.

So,
I had loads of inked pains to write this. Not to act as if all the parts
of you I despise or really miss. But if lips are the first taste we have
to a full meal of two lover’s violence, I think I’ll just stay off it’s diet.