Hole In The Head
I'll never write again.


Relationship Status:
In a relationship
Current City:
Los Angeles
Political Views:
Religious Views:

Hole In The Head

"Crazy people make better bloggers"

This photo ended up on my other blog’s dashboard today. I just couldn’t help but to think it’s kind of true, you know, for myself at least. I’m not saying I’m a good blogger, I’m saying I’m completely insane and my followers appreciate that. Some may not and they can suck my dick. Or not. Because my dick is too good for them. But you would have it worse than I do if you were me, on the other hand. So this is where “Bitch, you don’t know my life!" is the only  right thing to say. Come on, let’s face it; how many of you woke up to find out they’re still alive, every fucking time they literally killed themselves? I’m cursed. Don’t compete with me.

Thank you by the way, that one special person, for sticking with, and not giving up on me. I’m such a dick person but I quite appreciate all the love I’ve been getting although I don’t show. I can’t feel love, so I can’t return it. If I knew how to fake it, maybe I would. But I’m not even gonna try and I’m not even gonna apologize. I guess that’s just how I roll.

I’ll completely be honest with you. My life has come to a point where I’ve got nothing left to say or do. I can’t even relate my life to anything. What about my feelings though? Well, am I feeling anything at all? No, not that I’m aware of. What’s left there to feel anyway?

If you think there’s for me, more to life, more to feel, more to live; I’m only one proof away. You’re more than welcome to prove me life is worth living for. I’m more than willing to prove you wrong.


This was me, being the most honest at my best. If you don’t like it, go fuck yourself with the remote control or something.

In this post: personal  shit  
October 13 at 6:31am · Like · View Post


I’m loving Mary Jane. Flying with Lois Lane on board a bullet train. Don’t know yet if I’m glad I came. 

Obviously this helps me… I think??

I’m stuck between a hard place and the biggest rock, in my own head consumed. I sit back in my room. It’s like the tapestries of life get tangled in the loom. I’m like a butterfly, caught in a hurricane. My pulse is quickening as my heart plays a new refrain. I’m living in the past. My clock’s an hour fast. Should really go and make some coffee but I can’t be fucked. I’ve lost my mobile phone, you’ll have to call my home. On second thoughts just leave a message when you hear the tone. My grimy windows show the early morning glow, another day, another dollar in my one man show.

Sometimes at night I think too much about life and love and music and stuff.

I fell out with Mary Jane. I don’t speak to Lois Lane and I missed that bullet train. But now I know I’m glad I came.  

June 17 at 12:47am · Like · View Post

After experiencing and witnessing too many losts, I’ve come to realize there’s no place for love in my life. It’s gotten to a point I can’t bear anymore. These eyes have seen more deaths than you could ever imagine. Shutting my eyes doesn’t make things disappear, but if you’re sick enough of reality, it does a hell of a lot for wishful thinking but since when has optimism helped anyone? So I’m going to shut my heart, cross my fingers and wish to die. I’ve never felt so suicidal.

I carry this curse everywhere I go. If only it wasn’t contagious. My hands are infected with death. I kill everything I touch. I love everything I kill. I kill everything I love. Except myself. I’m cursed to witness the curse. I have lost my hopes on death. It will never come to me. Either I’m already dead or God’s punishing me for all my mistakes.

Well, I’m the good old cancer, so I’ll be my own destroyer, won’t be the first time and it won’t be the last. I didn’t wanna say any of this. Putting this down on a journal  feels like a confession but I’d give my heart away to be able to commit half the crimes I feel guilty of.

I am meant to be alone. So don’t get cross in my way. Everytime I find love, I must turn my back and run away. That’s my way of protecting you from myself. That’s why I disappear every now and then and come back again, to see if you’re still breathing.

I know a good thing when I see it and an even better thing when I lose it.

So give up on me.

Thank God for a pretty girl who knows all my secrets.

Before I go, all the love I have left (I am scrounging just for her) to Z;

Over (you) and out (of sight and mind).

February 15 at 10:48am · Like · View Post

I want a box around myself, so they can put me on the shelf to see the way I live. But the holes are blocked by everybody else inside. As far as I can tell, they’re all living well, living better, still that’s the way it is. Climbing up the corporate ladder, trying to escape through the roof.

Have you ever felt the pinch when your life’s confined? Well, get your ass in line. It’s hard not to care what they say. I’d like to think we’ll break away. I don’t believe that growing up means cashing out and giving up.

It’s not a problem, it’s hell. We only do what people tell but can you tell me, anyone,  the consequences of setting someone free? Can you explain lives led in vain? It seems like everybody’s looking for their way out.

February 8 at 7:40am · Like · View Post

I’ll classify every word out of your lips as a lie until you’re lying beneath the dirt and the soil, hailed as the queen of deceivers and cheats.

I hope your breathing doesn’t come easy. I pray to God I’m all you dream. I hope you feel my touch, hear my voice, taste my lips with every sip of noise. Save your tears. Don’t apologize. All you’ll hear is “goodbye" until you’re a memory.

You’ve got more guts to churn, an eternity to burn. You’re about as innocent as cancer. I’m down and out for now, but until the day you die, I will haunt your dreams.

In this post: T.D.  
January 31 at 2:48pm · Like · View Post

I just need to get (this) out.

I don’t need the snapped rope or the healed scars on my throat to know how lucky I am.

All my hits come from my misses and it feels no longer write/right on target, how life is not sleeping all day and fighting all night, myself vs. my emotions, and I am more than the rambling, erased phone messages from my exes, and the burden to myself. I was still the best secret you (n)ever had. “play nice" but the only thing taking turns was my stomach.

No guts, all glory. I am this close to having what I could not kill for, but I will keep trying. The bodies are under the stairs and the bruises from the fights are on my back. There is blood on the shovel and the evidence is ashes.

Putting up fi(r)st fights? Guilty as charged. These excuses are starting to hold less water than your lungs.

I am going to close my eyes and cross my fingers and keep pretending that this good sick feeling in my stomach can be diagnosed as ‘coincidence’.

January 31 at 11:06am · Like · View Post

My heart is taking over. It is taking over. It is over.

I threw up twice today, the first time envy poured from my stomach with blood.The second lust, causing me to choke until god decided to make me suffer and give me that breath of air. The last five are caged under my ribs, trying to burn their way out with acid and the smell of formaldehyde is clogging up my lungs like you are clogging up my head. I love you and I hate you and I want your smokey breath to be dangerously close to my swollen lips.

see also: chapped
see also: skinned

Best friends or best enemies, I can’t stop looking at you the way my father looked at me; love and anger or maybe just frustration.

The karma police arrested me. I am locked away in the steel cage of your heart because when your eyes met mine I felt pity for you and I wanted to rip you apart inside out and stample your heart to my wall so I can see if you really love me because;;; do I love you or am I really going insane????

My sanity’s gone and my mind has blackened like last night’s victim’s insides. Rinse it away so I can see your beautiful colors again - trees, trees’ branches, grass, sun, clouds and lovers.

You are all lovers and you are all in love with being in love. Where has the love gone? Crossed the atlantic and buried itself in exotic countries with beautiful girls with roses in their hair like the piece of poetry, held today in the kingdom of literature, such beauty she carried in her painted face and cut up costume. I wish you could see her like I see her, but you are resting your precious bones because I hurt you.

I never meant to ruin you. I never meant to ruin anybody.

In this post: resubmit  edited  advanced  
January 24 at 1:49pm · Like · View Post


When you’re burning to death, your body automatically curls you into the fetal position, shuts down and you pass out before you feel too much pain. It just gives in, gives out, gives up.

You dream in blue and I dream in gold and they mesh to make this murky grey we can’t see anything through this city’s smog that’s brought the fall of our empire before it even rose. Talk about potential, and I’ll talk about a disappointment. I’ve got this silly way of always setting myself up for it. I’m drinking in the attention like it was wine, bittersweet and not quenching quite as good as water but it keeps me from going dry.

You talk to them like they are me and soon they are gonna catch on that fast sinking feeling; that painful burning; that’s too much to take.

Cut to the emergency room. 10 ccs, nurse scalpel please, doctor a tube here. We’re losing this one. Who’d care if you just let me go? There’s blood all over the floor and I feel like I’m in love. All that red. Hearts all over. Ignore the fact we’ve got one that stopped beating.

When I said I’d give you everything, I signed myself up for organ donor. The jokes on me, they’re replacing hearts with plastic these days. Who didn’t see that coming?

Las vegas is a state over. You got the strip to guide you in for landing and only one light showing you the way, but it shines brighter than any others. Now it’s a country away. See what happens when you hesitate?

I’m used to it.

In this post: resubmit  
January 23 at 8:25am · Like · View Post

I am hacking my lungs out in a room that smells like murder and clove cigarettes and my bedtime story is narrorated by Alex’s nearly lost voice as he reads the obituaries from the local paper. And I really cannot help but think about if maybe we’d passed these people on the street sometime before they died yesterday and when Alex stops to clear the phlegm out of his throat I think what would it matter if I had or hadn’t in these situations, nothing matters but your reaction.

I am waiting anxious as a lonely suicide bleeding on a hotel room floor for the door to open or the blood to run out, I’m not sure. I’m hoping best friends don’t mean worst ends but I have got that sinking feeling we’re going down. Then again it’s always my mind vs. my emotions and there never seems to be a winner. I’m expecting the worst so I’m not let down by the best and my paranoias gotten ahead of me as usual.

In this post: best friends forever?  alex  
January 19 at 12:30am · Like · View Post

I am usually so right about these things and this is not an exception.

The night was new and you were the only one I could see in the (honey)moonlight. I was making rythyms out of breaths and a bassline from your heartbeat. One finger down for the soft warm noises you make in your sleep and I felt like I was counting down till the morning. I was ashes to ashes and dust to dust by the time the sky breaks through the black but your imprint on the pillow is still making me homesick for a place I have never been. It reminds me of our waltzes. I do not even care if you step on my foot.

Deny thy father, refuse thy name.

I am two steps ahead of you baby, but I am always looking back to make sure you are following.

I want to write this song about burying this stupid girl so I can have my ex-friend, best friend back. (e)x marks the spot.

I am loving whatever I can('t) get my hands on. You have got lips that promise “I love you"s like no tomorrow and a heart that says "as a friend" .

January 18 at 7:06pm · Like · View Post