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Broken Words

by Electric Hobo

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1.
Fixer 01:45
Every night when I fall asleep it crawls out of my body. When the dreams begin I understand that it has taken control of my being, initiated dream sequences to keep my mind busy while it maintains my core, check my brain, changes all the burnt neurons and rewires synapses, then it crawls out of my body, this huge insect that lives inside me but only comes out at night when I'm fast asleep. He tightens the screws on my jaw, changes my body fluids, sucks all my marrow out and replaces it with new marrow. It has antlers that measure the electric charge in my brain it measures my heart rate and adjusts it to fit my breathing, then after all is done it crawls back in seals the wound and reboots my brain for the new day.
2.
These broken souls crawling over past mistakes and shards of glass these destroyed, complitely obliterated minds trying to pass on their guilt let it trickle down to the future generations Fuck it up for all of us We are sinking deeper Drowning in liqour and self-hatred Spiraling down like some beautiful Fibonaccian sequence, crippled animal crawling to safety body full of bullets. Bloody footprints mark the spot We can never escape But it would help a lot if we even wanted to.
3.
I used to have a twin sister but I ate her in the womb. She was caring and kind and she was pretty too. I used to have a twin sister but our womb became her tomb. With numb fingers I scraped her flesh off the bones, mind fixed on my own survival. I used to have a twin sister but I ate her in the womb. Convulsions ravaged my body as I sucked the beauty of existence transfixed on the bliss of becoming a real person. I used to be two people me and my twin sister But now she's just a memory a non-existent blister.
4.
Most people probably don’t know how it feels like to be five years old and to wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of your dad fighting his friend in the corridor. Most people don’t know how it feels to be four and go get your dad from the bar on a cold winter night. Most people don’t know how it feels when they take your dad away to the police and bankruptcy and alcoholism and replace him with a fat blob full of alcohol, slurs and bitterness. Most people don’t know how it feels when that blob abuses you mentally for ten years and destroys your sense of security completely in a place you were supposed to call “home”. Most people have not woken up to a shotgun. Most people don’t know how it feels to be clever enough to see that blob re-enact his own traumas and revenging all the grudges he had towards the man you once thought of as your “dad”, but not that much anymore. Most people don’t know the hatred it fills you with, slow, gradual, but exponential growth. Most people don’t know how much struggle it takes to crawl out of that hell and rebuild your whole personality, while very, very carefully trying not to fuck up anything. Most people don’t know any of this. Most people don’t know how it feels to have a shrapnel grenade for a soul.
5.
My Obituary 03:08
One day they will read my obituary in a local newspaper and it will be something in the lines of this: a former sober person, a recent LSD enthusiast dissolved in the middle of an experimental sonic performance last Friday. He was in the middle of a 9 week long guitar solo/masturbation binge lurking in the fringes of the eternal and everflowing consciousness which kindly erased his existence and made him vaporize mid sentence holding a B minor 7 chord, standing in the middle of a screetching feedback loop. He will be survived by a relieved family who were getting tired of his shit anyway and commented to our reporter very briefly: 'whatevs.' "
6.
My mind is a deflected bullet aimed at the wrong direction Nobody knows where I'll hit but everybody knows I will destroy something when I do. My life is a wasted opportunity Helpless and unable to change its course at the center of all this unwanted attention. Worn out before my thirties Destroyed by my own expectations Torn apart by my own sense of self-worth. No need to say you're sorry. Neither am I. I don't know where I'm headed But I know I'll be there soon. Watching my friends roll joints always makes me think what makes me so different from them? Nothing, I guess. Just the amount of self-hatred varies. In the end we are all the same. Grabbed in the chokehold of life. Strangled to death. It was an honor to die with you all.
7.

about

Broken words and harsh noises

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released October 24, 2016

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Electric Hobo Osaka, Japan

ONE MAN.
NO MISSION.

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