Tropical Depression

Jayton "Bubba" Okada. 23. Guam. Searching for identity within this Pacific melting pot.

[chrisstevens123-blog]

[middy118]

ZUBRO IS SCARY AS FUCK. THESE SHOULD EXIST.

[tyleroakley]

ALL OF THESE ARE PERFECT.

[pizzaotter]

I FUCKING LOVE FUSION DRAWINGS SO MUCH

[hitchhikersguidetothegalaxy]

This is the story of the Hitchhiker’s Guide To the Galaxy, perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor. More popular than The Celestial Home Care Omnibus, better selling than Fifty-three More Things To Do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolon Colluphid’s trilogy of philosophical blockbusters, Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God’s Greatest Mistakes, and Who is This God Person Anyway? And in many of the more relaxed civilizations on the Outer Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, the Hitchhiker’s Guide has already supplanted the great Encyclopaedia Galactica as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom, for though it has many omissions and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least warrantly inaccurate, it scores over the older, more pedestrian work in two important respects. First, it is slightly cheaper and, secondly, it has the words: DON’T PANIC inscribed in large, friendly letters on the cover.

[jasminemuitto-deactivated201608]

She’s mad but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire.

Charles Bukowski (via revivingmysoul)

[realmisanthrope]

Parts not the whole…

[cmyque]

Pensacola | Manchester Orchestra

I am the greatest man that never lived and now i never sleep I never lost a fight but never knew I started one the same I never knew how capable I would become

I’m tired of talking to a wall when I could talk to someone else It’s got seven days without a word and you’re with someone somewhere else

[solelydesired-blog-blog]

[nevver]

Periodic Table’s Endangered Elements (larger)

[nevver]

Paper cuts

[ahklii]

[carnet-prive]

[elliipses]

[zbags]

[aliceunderskies]

Poem for Nobody / Charles Bukowski

an apprehension for reality, the death of the flower, the collapse of hope, the crush of wasted years, the nightmare faces, the mad armies attacking for no reason at all and/or old shoes abandoned in old corners like half-forgotten voices that once said love but did not mean love. see the face in the mirror? the mirror in the wall? the wall in the house? the house in the street? now always the wrong voice on the telephone and/or the hungry mouse with beautiful eyes which now lives in your brain. the angry, the empty, the lonely, the tricked. we are all museums of fear. there are as many killers as flies as we dream of giant sea turtles with strange words carved into their hard backs and no place for the knife to go in. Cain was Able, ask him. give us this day our daily dread. the only solace left to us is to hide alone in the middle of night in some deserted place. with each morning less than zero, humanity is a hammer to the brain, our lives a bouquet of blood, you can watch this fool still with his harmonica playing elegiac tunes while slouching toward Nirvana without expectation or grace.

[suffocatingdaydreams]

Honest Sleep//touché amoré

[psychedelic-forrests]

Fractals in nature

[alltrippygifs]

[psychedelic-forrests]

Fractals in nature