writing

Here, There is a hole in my heart. A donut hole. I don’t know how it got there. It is a tourist draw. People come from all around. Some fall in the hole. This only attracts more tourists. Thrill seekers. Donut lovers. Conspiracy theorists. The Hole truth. Nothing.

I am bad. On the weekends, I teach sailors to curse. They would be lost without me. I also issue maps. To imaginary lands. For plundering.