h e a r t b e a t

dianajeanhoorelbek 4.20.13

"When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man
who said on his deathbed that
he had had a lot of trouble in his life,
most of which had never happened."
- Winston Churchill

"We are the generation that grew up on angst and pain, that's why we're all insane."
They’ve been together since the summer
and it shows: the electricity in the car
when I climb in, how the baby hairs on my neck
stand up at attention like they know
they’re in the presence of something real
and important. Something that needs to be
acknowledged. We carry on our conversation
like nothing is out of the ordinary,
talk about things that don’t really matter
to the world at large but that are still vastly
important to us. I like to see how far
they’ve both come with their relationship,
hands locking together out of instinct
over the cup holders, the reassurance of skin,
shifting their bodies to favor each other,
the amount of love blowing in from the vents.
I am happy there in the back seat, wind in my hair,
the highway stretching out before us,
their love a sun roof, a tangerine I can sink
my teeth into, hold delicately in my mouth,
smile and laugh around, all flesh and lung.
After they drop me off at home, I come into
my bedroom and lay down and watch the
light shift and change on the walls. Swallow. ~Kristina Haynes, “From the Back Seat of My Best Friend’s Car” (via contramonte)

If youre gonna sit on your ass all day, play video games, let your wife work constantly while almost 9 months pregnant and then complain you complain you have no fucking money and bitch about everything then you are no longer my brother. You are a fucking lazy ass piece of shit who cant even get a damn job to support your fucking wife and children. Fucking jackass. I work 5 days a week, my fiancee works five days a week, we have a dog and three cars. Im fucking 18. Your fucking 25. What the hell is wrong with you.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep ~W.B. Yeats (via observando)