Here I go, go, go

I am the aftermath of a shaken bottle, not the untwisting of its cap, or even the act of shaking, I am the fizzed explosion that causes the world, or people around me to push back, while still maintaining grip, needless to say, my mom meant I an uncontrollable, untamed, and vulgar. The sensation is memorable, a liquid brown fizz gushing down you hands, for the moment, you are wet, uncomfortable, and disilusioned, but the aftermath is sweet. Inside remains a sweet, calorie filled delight, and on your hands, a little piece of me.