first came the 15 page letters They were typed in parts and written by hand in others the ink color would change and the font and the little doodles on the margins The only consistency in the whole project was the reader's inability to understand 93% of it all They were threats, alright, but of what nature? Well, next came the envelopes filled with rusty and bloody razor blades pubic hairs bloody tissues bloody plastic gloves broken guitar strings clipped nails pictures of random people with their eyes crossed out by needle scratches "It's not so bad if you think about it," he said. "I get free stuff in the mail. Sure, most of it is junk, but every once in a while I get something good. Look, the other day I got this perfectly functioning pen. Heh, I might even start writing poetry again… I'm tellin' you, man, breaking the heart of a psychotic girl is like making a contract with a dumpster diving company to deliver the junk to your mail. For free. Goddamn, I should really start writing poetry again. Now that I don't have to go scout the dumpsters myself. I gotta do something with all the free time."
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