Note: Views expressed are not necessarily those of hiapop.
A new column for hiapop, Razor Angel is the ramblings and truth of writer Holden Zero. TRIGGER WARNING!!! The following is very brutal and honest and may affect anyone who has suffered similar thoughts.
6 November 2019
The whole bloody world is drowning in a world of ghosts. We are all being haunted.
Take the music industry of which I play a small part by playing terrible guitar in a terrible band that I just can't seem to walk away from...tick this off as yet another addiction. The industry is haunted by its past. The giant labels hover over everything even if you think that they don't. Loads of the supposed independents get their money from up there , the PAYmasters and grouching chiefs. It's all so tiring. The world then is not an escape in fact it is like locking yourself in to a haunted castle surrounded by demons of the most violent and vile manner. Every corner stands a lurid spirit dripping in contempt for you..wanting your death. You are Jack and you've always fucking been here. We are the caretakers, the virgins and the spot-types. Basically anyone who has been fucked and butchered in gore/porn crass flickzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
There are guiding lights you know. There IS A FORM OF HOPE. People who will cast out the demons and make the power of ghosts become nothing more than damp farts in the cupboard.
God I sound tedious eh. moaning on as my putrid gut rumples and curdles..I am pretty sure it will be my stomach that eventually kills me. Even if it's just chocking on the gormless burger of Westminster until I break on through to the other side. Christ that Morrison was a prick wasn't he. All this "shaman" bollocks is absurd when all he was is a violent alcoholic who beat women and grew a beard. Fair play he could belt out a blues jam that I would sing along to when I was an edgy teen swigging vodka and coke's in my mates house swallowing the Oliver Stone bullshit like it was Gospel. I am reeeeeeeeaaaallllllyyy glad I am not like that anymore. Or am I? He haunts me that ghost.
Yeah so croon it with me. THIS.IS.THE.ENNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDD
24 October 2019
Fucking prick. 39 dead. 39 dead. 39 dead. Humans. Heartbeats. Flesh and blood. Life smothered out of them in the pitch black fumes of lorry casket and here he is. Mr Brexit Party avatar all "fuck ‘em" and "good riddance". Well you know what? It’s cunts like these that make me think it is time to shuffle off. I've been trying for weeks but I can never get to that one final leap into blackness.
First the belt just looked at me in the wardrobe… then came the test run all wrapped round my neck as I stared at the landing... then came the tightening…the day after. Constant tears as I picture my family...it's the calmness that is getting to me this time. I am not angry or distraught… I just feel ready... ready is in fact the emotion I can feel right now. Actually I am liar liar pants on fire. I feel irritated...pain...tiredness… no love for anything except one or two people… It isn't easy keeping this fucked up charade going… I keep losing my train o thought as you can see. Third time lucky… this time the other end goes round the doorknob... we... are… getting… closer.
Online I am all smiles and humanity when really I am done… cooked… caved in… hollowed out… chest under constant invisible pressure. I can't breathe.
And here comes Mr Right-Wing Fuck ‘em Brexit to add to my already black day… these pricks are allowed to drive… vote… tie their shoes up (with mummies help). I wanted a quiet day where I could just try and focus on getting better but no here comes the news… the devastation… the ugly end to 39 lives... these people are us and we are them and here they come the ugly spit and wank online warriors… they can't spell but they're "proppa English" they spell the word that describes them as cants... need to log off and avoid but the hatred boils up and over... I need rest… sleep… a shit and a sandwich then the courage to get past that one last hurdle… I don't really want to of course. This is the ramblings of a depressive and ‘tis is just Wednesday... wait until I tell you about Friday... barnstormer.
Stay happy and safe. Chose art music and film... read this on your phone? Turn to the person next to you on the train/bus/tram and just say hello... you could save their life.