Dead Letter Room

I like to live in deep, dark, desolate places.

Secluded.

Away from all of the laughter and the pieces of a happy existence.

I find myself comfortable in other places.

Devoid of light.

With a bathtub filled to the brim with blood and floating beer bottles.

I’ve always had nothing.

And I will unhappily accept nothing again.

Until I plateau and happiness is but a mere myth told within earshot of Bigfeet enthusiasts and Nessie wranglers.

I was looking for my heart to plunge another one of Cupid’s poison-tipped arrows into it.

But I remembered that I had left it with you.

Please drop it off at the nearest post office with no postage.

They shall shuck it into the dead letter room.

I’ll be there shortly to pick it up.

And then retreat into the cold.

The level beneath the Cocytus.

Where my Ghost Removal shall commence.

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