britannicamoore

So I decided most Holidays suck. I mean, I woke up Christmas morning and I didn't get shit I asked for. I got socks. I fucking hate socks. Valentines Day I got a Hallmark heart shaped box of chocolates. I damn near eat chocolate everyday. Why would you spend $30 on that? That's not romantic, thats just stupid. Easter. Easter has bunnies...and eggs...and bunnies don't fucking lay eggs so fuck you Easter for being so goddamn confusing. And Thanksgiving. Well...no one gives thanks to anything they just eat turkey. So like I said, most Holidays suck. But! Fear not! I know how to make it all better. One word. Weed. Don't fucking laug

I feel like I could be real, partially existent And if I've not really here would I be another statistic? I am that person that people only see in their peripheral vision And when they attempt to look at that ghost with precision I come across as something they had only just envisioned. I do not see the world through rose colored glasses As do the masses- Boyfriends are like religion, believe if you choose I'll keep my heart away from the donation plate; I've got something to loose. The sum: I don't believe in love and don't exist because I gave my all for eight years and I'm left with pieces of what was the man I loved thought to

I have this new hobby:  It's called *sic* And I have these girl friends named Mary, Jane and Roxanne- They're pretty high on my list of friends. So we were rolling to the grocery store- Mary called shotgun Jane sat on my green jacket and Roxanne laughed. Mary had another breakdown- she's so overdramatic Jane complained about Roxanne burning her - It all stemmed from a problem long ago, planted by the seeds of confusion. Roxanne is always blowing smoke They can go bake pineapple cakes. Mary was being blunt as usual And Jane called up her bud named Johnny. We were a nickel short- and all someone had was a dime. Roxanne is always

It has been a long road. I took a note from Robert Frost when planning my way and I never came to his fork nor his snowy field. All I came to were rough patches- patches that made me want to turn around and recount my thousand steps. To go back to the things I had passed or left behind to get away. I though I knew where I was going on the road, thought I had the directions down pat. I took my sense of direction for granted. Now I am at the end of my road and I had less things that I started with and I wonder if I had slowed down would I be missing so much? If I had stopped and smelled the roses- if I had stopped further back and had not

I saw the world in Technicolor. Color saturated everything from tress to daffodils. Now. That color is faded in some bits but there is still some there. It’s just dim where I look. I thought at first it was me losing my vision…and that would have been easily explained and I might have been better. It would have been a loss I couldn’t have controlled. The loses I can control however are the ones that hurt the most. The ones that make me taste the bitter remnants of what I decided to do for my own good (and maybe his too). Those are the loses that make me see the world with a little less color. There are nights when I see splas

There was once a boy I loved  very deeply. He and I spoke through words, and shared souls. We were one and the same at times, together  but yet not. he was there. And then he ran off on a fools errand away from me. Gone. Forever? There was once a boy I loved deeply. He and i were not alike. We shared thoughts and secrets. We were never the same not alike. He was there when he had the time. And then he disap-reap-was there. There was once a boy I loved deeply. He and I communicated through laughter. We were alike in many ways but unlike in many more. He was there when he could be, otherwise not. And then he reminded. There was once a bo