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ruin

Mailman

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I wrote this as a recording to a stoned daydream I had while listening to some crazy horror shit on my mp3 player. I was thinking about what goes on in the mind of a convict in prison, eating the same thing and doing the same thing everyday.

 

On a world in an eternal blue, cloudless sky, there was a floating island. On this island, there was one neighborhood of immortal people who always were. They had a mailman that mailed them letters of static every morning, in the same route every time. The people could not read the letters, but they tried anyway, for there was no such thing as entertainment. The islanders did nothing for all eternity, for there was never any new information. One day the mailman decided to take a different route. He took a route that led him in circles and could not deliver his mail to everyone on the island like usual. The people did not comprehend the change in the pattern, but they all felt something different. They did not know what or even how to think. Then one by one they became more active in discovering this new sensation. They found that it was good. They began to leave their homes and enter others homes. They discovered that others existed on this island and began to communicate. They had discovered enlightenment, but without any natural information sources and no changes, they needed to find new ways to create this feeling. And then, for the first time, someone tripped and fell.

Pain.

The person who had fallen let out a ear-shattering scream, causing pain to everyone on the island. They did not know how to react, so they began to push each other to the ground to discover more about pain. They began to hit each other until someone bled. They discovered blood. The discovery fed their addiction to enlightenment, so they made each other bleed and covered the island in blood until they could not bleed anymore. They smeared the blood around randomly until a pattern occurred by chance. They saw the pattern and were mesmerized by it. They repeated the pattern, until they began to alter it and create new patterns in the smeared blood. They each went to their homes and painted patterns on their houses, each one different.

When the blood dried, they tried to find more blood by digging deeper under the skin, until eventually they began to bite into eachother's flesh, and discovered tastes on their tongues, and began licking every different object on the island. When they could not find anymore new things to taste, they began to cry with sorrow. They had never felt sorrow,but they treasured the discovery of it. This made them happy again. Everything made them happy. They had discovered everything on the island and all looked off the edge of the island.

One stepped off the island into the eternal blue, then another, and another, and so on until they all fell into the great blue abysmal sky.

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