A lot of my favorite stories and poems are taken out of author’s journals found after death. It makes me think how many beautiful words will go to waste, drowned in the abundance of accessibility, scribbled in livejournals and status updates.

Try to detect you when I’m sleeping, in a wave you say goodbye.

Get off your phone!

keepsakes

Filling pages with unheard words,

we’re losing our paths

and losing our souls.

turning our backs on the ones we love,

fucking and fighting our way out,

kicking and screaming and 

clinging to arms

and hearts 

and homes and hope,

clawing our way

through the ground to the sky

through the cracks in the wall

through the cracks in our lives

filling these holes 

and spilling our souls,

spilling our lives into 

hearts that we hold,

we’re drinking you in,

and hiding in sin,

hiding in hearts we’ll lose in the end.



Gonna start using my tumblr for writing shit too.  Sorry for the words.

I have been dreaming of sailing away, I built a boat out of paper mache.

So good

vnmftw:

Yup, we’re giving away another custom Biltwell helmet!

All you have to do is go HERE and enter! 

This artwork is for sale! I’d love to do some super sweet hand lettering to fill the design out Cutty.bage@gmail.com

I also have these older designs up for grabs at a good price, get in touch! http://www.cuttybage.com/forsale/


Killing time, unwillingly mine.

Something older, prints maybe?

It was only a test, but she swam too far against the tide, she deserves all she gets.

Vonnegut’s Cats Cradle painting for Miles to Go.  If you haven’t read it, read it.

The way to create art is to burn and destroy ordinary concepts and to substitute them with new truths that run down from the top of the head and out of the heart.

Bukowski

Taking walks around the hearts and homes we’ll never own.