Barcode Yourself by Scott Blake
Enter personal information to be barcoded and find how much you are worth. Scott Blake creates highly charged work that deserves to be seen.
Looks like I’m worth $9.85 not bad…
Devils Er
Driving off onto the 101 rush hour concrete jungle, there are no exits,
only obligations to stay stuck in my mobile cubicle moving at the speed of slow.
Hidden flowers on the hillside bloom away mocking my insanity,
they cheer me on to see beyond these gray prison bevels.
Gray blocks hollow until they’re filled with my humanity,
making me take the choices reaped with devils.
I feel like I’ve lived a day in one hour, it’s so early it could be midnight.
Twisting and turning in my brain, the sun suddenly ridicules, feeding me a fresh case of insane.
I’m at a point of sorrow, sorrow of an exceptional quality, Grade A-farm raised, take two tomorrow.
The raven croaked nevermore, Juliet is the sun, dangren-burang1.
We have to go. I’m almost happy here2. Complacency rots insides, then refills with fear.
So - Listen to them - children of the night. What music they make3. Clamoring for sight.
There’s no flesh or blood within this cloak to kill. There’s only an idea. Ideas are bulletproof4. Filled with truths, synapse salvoes, loves, and drugs. We love what we eat and eat who we are. GERManic germs looking for psychological thrills. You work the guns, I’ll rattle the hills.
Smoking cannabis to an over-extent, hope lost, old kung-fu and 80’s movies won, I eat smoke for breakfast.
This sun is still mocking me, “Start your day, be productive, make a baby, then expiry.”
Stepping into society, I’m a satanic leaf-tailed gecko wanting freedom, abdicate, and let go your kingdom.
Half Heartedly half washed dishes in my sink; this entropy roller-coaster of highs and lows drives me to drink and think, then drink and smoke, making life one strange syrupy green swirl of mammary’s and calamities filled with brevity’s of rarities.
5,000 images, 2 comedies, and a numb right arm later I’ve turned into dark matter, invisibly pulling all that matters together into a forever stretched infinitely, literally making synergies out of life-energies.
1) Yield to nobody when one is doing what is right. 2) Ender’s Game, Ender Wiggin 3) Bram Stoker’s Dracula 4) V For Vendetta
Heads Up Their Asses
I find it troubling when pointless news such as acquisitions and mergers become more newsworthy than all the death and destruction that is caused in this world by empire expansion. The popular front has their heads up their asses.
An interesting model of our solar system’s path as it travels through space in the Milky Way.
Certainly a departure from usual models that show the Sun as a static object, which it certainly isn’t
I had no idea this was happening. Where are we going?
To fuck some shit up
Around the center of the Milky Way, which is heading towards the Andromeda Galaxy. And our whole Local Group is moving towards the Virgo Cluster.
But we’ll never actually reach the Virgo Cluster because space is expanding between us and them faster than we’re moving towards it.
Motherfucking science.
This must be the same inherent feeling I get when I want to achieve perfection, I get close but just not close enough. The infinity paradox comes to mind.
(via we-are-star-stuff)
Trying to not explode from everyone being ever so fakely nice.
Anonymous
I shall be your Mrs. Smith if you wish to be my Mr.
If I knew who you were then I would be a true Mr. Smith. Ironic, but since it’s Anon I’ll publish this and say maybe? Knowing who you are would be the final nail in the coffin. 
Reblog this and see what you get. I expect nobody to send me a message with a #
- 1: You’re ugly.
- 2: I hate your tumblr.
- 3: I love your tumblr.
- 4: You’re my Tumblr crush.
- 5: Your Tumblr is amazing.
- 6: You’re hot.
- 7: You’re gorgeous.
- 8: You’re pretty.
- 9: I want your number.
- 10: I’m on your blog often.
- 11: I want you.
- 12: You're lovely.
- 13: You're fucking sexy.
- 14: I want to hug you.
- 15: Let me love you.
Fame
- Angie Jolie has a look that melts into her perfect breasts as she teases me into a new world of seduction. Her eyes are a map and her lips show me where to land my ship of seductions. I want her seductions and eruptions filled full of love consumptions.
- Catching my beer just short of the head I drink in life… I miss the spice, the strife, the things that make me cream I want feeelings and meanings filled with streaming beings
- Needing something greasy I feel easy and less enthused across a world of misused and abused people that are trained to enjoy the steeple. Dogma, fuck it over and fuck you. It’s there for you to be a tool.
- I miss the handkisses and wellwishes. Love’s seduction filled with reduction to the finest elements spent on sweat and tears of fears and folly. I want your lolly and folly filled with me.
- Fucking crazy, it is me.
- Me, fuck me. The life I chose is interchangeably symbiotic.
I’m so fucking tired, follow me you fools! Life is never worth waiting for.
