No shape, no color, unwieldy like a stone,

She stands next to me,

As a pair of suffering buddies;

“I can’t stop to take all the stuff the world gives me,”

She says, “milk, coffee, yogurt, sodas,

And vegetable juice.”

“My content smells like poor-quality coffee;

My lid is smoked by the fermented milk;

My crack is filled with sticky residue;

I am nasty; my life is controlled in other’s hands;

I can’t stop it.”

“Neither do I,” I answer,

“My life is a mess; I take no responsibility for this;

My stomach is full but my brain is empty;

My mind is a slave serving for stimulus;

Amusing to death,

This is me.

Obesity and inanity surround me;

When spirit disappears in this noisy, fickle society,

The flesh vanishes after it.”

She is silent, avoiding my whine and complaints;

She is only an ugly black-and-white water bottle,

But,

I am her;

She is me;

I don’t like her;

She doesn’t like me.