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Mr. Rager

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I like art, and by art I mean music, poetry, sex, paintings, the human body, literature… All of this is art to me.

 Hunter Reveu (via franki-e)

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Love

If you live in Brooklyn/NYC area, a few friends and I just opened a vintage/culture shop together in Bushwick. 867 Broadway, BK! Vintage clothing and shoes, vinyl, VHS, and so much more.

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Bad Dreams and What They May Mean I’m lost. I’m lost up here, in my own mind These crazy dreams haunts it at night. I dream of you, of me, of ‘we’ Yes even though they’ve all brought me misery. I dream of death, of sorrow, of pain. And even though it’s “just a dream” These images I fear, cannot be unseen. I dreamt of my family and all our troubles. I expressed to her how her actions caused me great torment. How her choice to silence me caused me great harm and made me ache and wake in the night far before my set alarm. I dreamt of him; Though he wasn’t really there. I guess that’s a coincidence because he was, never there. Maybe in possessions and in places, he was. You never raised me up or hugged me or showed me what love truly was. I dreamt of the death of my father. He told me himself– that he was dying of cancer. Killing himself. The cigarettes caused it and I’m sure a mixture of everything else. We cried in each other’s arm and then my brain quickly moved on to the next hell.. (I do not dream of my mother, and for this I am glad. Because I could not find one thing to praise her in this cruel reality which causes me to dread what my subconscious would concoct in my own head) I dreamt of being tortured. Perhaps it wasn’t a dream- For when I wake up that’s exactly what these dreams do to me. They’re a mix of a false reality and my own. The flashbacks hit me and seem to only remind me that I’m alone And for this I find myself asking why this, why me? Why can’t I escape my fears even when I sleep? Why can’t I dream of “ponies, of soccer and of candy”? Something I used to say to myself as a little girl before I went to sleep. Why do I dream at all- I know many that never do… Or perhaps they’re haunted like me and choose not to remember, unlike me. I choose to remember them, although it’s not me choosing. Instead it’s that pink squishy thing living in my head. It does what it wants and I fear It’s getting out of control: I dreamt of him, the new man in my life, however, I could see the past, not too far in sight. I crave to know what these mean, I crave to really see what I’ve seen. It’s a weird feeling, knowing that no one can help me. No one but myself of course, the power lies within. All I can do now is carry on and never lose sight of the end. I’m much happier here, this, I truly know. I’m finally in the right positions to prosper and to grow. I’ve always been the type to go with the flow and see where it takes me. I’m finally seeing progress but sometimes these dreams prevent me from noticing how far I’ve really come. Or maybe they are just a reminder of how far I’ve really come . A continuous reminder of where I came from and where I’ll go. And what could be if thing don’t go as planned. If I “fuck it up” I could be just like him, or her, or them and that, I never want to occur. So for now I’ll just dream and wake up confused. Not knowing the future, but only the past. And really, I’m okay with that. The past will not define me, for, I’m happy where I’m at. I finally feel at home. Maybe I’m not lost at all. Maybe I’m exactly where I need to be. Maybe I’m actually happy And just cannot see. Cannot process it, I guess it’s been a while since I’ve sincerely smiled. These people around me are testing me.- calculating my worth and how long I’ll last. Well sit tight and watch because I’ll be here for awhile.

Samantha Netto

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I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.

John Burroughs (via observando)

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Jen Ervin

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