No matter how much you feed the wolf, he keeps looking at the forest.
— Ilse Lehiste (via rabbitinthemoon)
When did the future switch from being a promise to being a threat?
— Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters (via thatkindofwoman)
It was the wild ones you loved best, who showed up late, then never showed at all. In the cold they looked back at you through stitched and swollen eyes, smiled crookedly to hide their missing teeth. There was always someone older. They were the ﬁrst boys you knew who owned a car, who rolled a thin white paper, who talked out of the side of their mouths, cigarettes burning. You watched them fall quick and bright and beautiful, you watched them disappear then throw themselves on top of you till you thought you’d drown. They were cool and mean, but sometimes they treated you with such extravagant tenderness, giving up their jackets on an autumn night to keep you warm. How you loved to move inside the shape of them, the smell of sweat and leather kissing your skin. The wild boys had the fastest tongues, the dirtiest jokes. The boys you loved knew everything, guided your mouth and hands, showed you what you really wanted from this life. Now, it is their brokenness you long to touch, the parts they left behind or lost as they learned too soon too many years ago what it took and took to be a man.
— Lorna Crozier (via ameliacarina)