Genre Mess @mesenja - Tumblr Blog

I hope that in your silent significance you never orchestrate secrets that make their beds beyond explanation.

4 billion people in the world live outside of the protection of the law. (via 4 Billion People | The Locust Effect)

Learn more in The Locust Effect: Why the End of Poverty Requires the End of Violence by Gary A. Haugen and Victor Boutros.

coilskinkscurls4c

Because I’m Nappyyyyyy, Clap along if your afro goes all the way to the roof. Because I’m Nappyyyyy, Clap along if you feel that natural hair is the truth. Because I’m Nappyyyy, Clap along if you know that natural hair is for you. Because I’m Nappyyyy, Clap along if you know that that’s what you want to do!

Sing Along to ‘Happy’

-indigenous curls

(via coilskinkscurls4c)

shysmitchell

Madness? This is TUMBLR

When I was kid

I wanted God to exist,

because by those rules

Goku could too.

So I believed, thinking

that if adults believe it's

gotta make SOME sense.

For them God's existence

defined reality.

For me it

justified my fantasies.

If ultimately everyone's

stuck in their heads

living their dreams in private,

why shouldn't I do the same thing?

That's how I approached my childhood.

Creating my world and

colouring everyone I met

with the shades that

I thought they should have.

I didn't know I was missing out

on the very people I was shaping,

the world I was creating.

I thought characters in shows

were alive, and that

by changing the channel

I wasn't missing an episode,

but giving them privacy.

I never tried to understand music.

I liked it too much to think about it.

It did too much for me.

Still does.

Sometimes.

Mostly when I make it.

I guess...

every now and then I

meet someone that

I don't have to

colour.

Somehow they match my

made up world, and

that's how I see my

friends.

My world is

surprisingly

populated.

The world outside

though

I still can't

manage.

Too many colours

flying at me too fast.

I love the brightest ones.

Though they

scare the most.

They do damage

in the wrong

light.

I feel safest

looking at something

that won't hurt me.

In a place where

I can't see

anything

else.

#nobodyreadsthisshit

If I don't find a time machine I'll never catch up. I suppose it's time I ignore this gap and direct my attention to other bridges.

Waking Gods

When a god ages he loses his true strength and his star darkens. He loses the power to create and can only destroy. The end of a universe is the loss of the imagination. We are dreams that haven’t quite made him disturbed enough to wake up. Armageddon is always said to come at the climax of sin. “If only they were more benevolent” cry their descendants, saddened that their roots will never entwine, but their betrayal is true and cannot be accepted. Our souls darken…as does the sky…as does the sun. The entire sky becomes a perfect sheet of grey and sun fades into a sphere that can only be seen as a flat circle from all sides. We lose our colour, the dreams fade and god wakes up. At the height of our sin our colour heightens into chaos and destroys itself. We wake most naturally from colourless dreams.

ihernglass

Kayden’s first time experiencing rain (x)

naturallykinetic-deactivated201

The cuteness!

Black Jack Dealer

Female Black Jack Dealer has a repeat customer who always comes to her table to play. Always charging into the casino in a crumpled brown hat and matching trench coat with some outlandishly patterned collection of cloth, each specially designed to get him through the day, underneath. With his spiky, black hair spilling over his red, gold-framed sunglass he’d explode into a spasm of frantic narrative about today’s crisis.

He would blabber on as if the other players at the table were a backdrop for a scene that acted in a way that they made it what it was but couldn’t really affect it like the dividers on a fret board. The dealer would serve the other players with the instinct of breath while she listened begrudgingly to his stories. His playing was like the game was like holding a telephone receiver, a medium of connecting two spaces that would otherwise not to be able to connect.

Customers come and go, drink offers ignored and accepted, and as long as he has something to say the games continue, neither receiver is holstered. They once left the casino long after closing time with the only light left on being the one hanging right above them; the only highlighted thing as far as either of them could see. The conversation from this point until the end of its entirety becomes the only significant thing occurring. This can only happen on days when the man has enough to talk about. He loves these days. He could wait until he accumulates enough stories but he’s obsessed with hanging holy moments and wants them daily, so he spends each moment in a state of hypersensitivity looking for enough significance for him to always have the keys to the ignition of the car he can ride to his holy moments. He becomes stuck in this state, starved of his craving, losing his conception of significance in his vision: missing the beach for the grains of sand.

married2themoon

Model: Kimi

Photographer: Me

Make-up: Lee-Anne

With thorns burrowed along the lines of my palms I spread a bed with petals for us. If I've bled for a tree that will never bare fruit this may be my last garden.