Having, of late been doomed to disapprove of my reflection in the looking glass, hence spurting on the bloody dreaded "D" word, it seems all i want to do is eat. The word "Fry", " Food" and "Sugar" have taken on an increased reverence, hitherto only reserved for the likes of Keirkegaard, Dylan and my quasi-post-existential beliefs...but i no longer believe in sweating the "small" stuff. Bring on the grub....grub, a dub, ab.
Yet out of all the confectionary delights i am abstaining from in my non-quintessential quest for martyrdom (apparently being thin is the modern equivelent), the one i miss and cant live without remains the same. The only non-evasive, undisputed love of my life....my ode to a bottle, can, fishbowl....... anything of Coke.
Oh my blessed, beautiful, friend.
How i LONG to reunite with thee.
Feel your cool, glass (what do you know it was bottle after all) primzms
and taste your fiery, gasseous depths.
I long, and pine,
all in vain.
Not to worry though my childhood friend, my adolescent sweetheart, my eternal soulmate
Bloody 6 more days till perdition
Until you and I are together again.
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