It’s not that I mind being gutted, I just hate the feeling of emptiness, like an already looted treasure chest that no one seems to want at the bottom of the ocean where no one seems to have been, or care about. Who cares about sunken ships when you can swim with the dolphins and watch the sharks and birds fly by like the planes from your dreams that you’ll never forget for fear of losing yourself in the ever expansive passage of time that only ever stops for one minute at midnight when the reaper collects his toll from the old and the sick and the unfortunately unlucky who were only walking home and didn’t even know they were dealing with anything and everything in the world that spins and spins and never stops until everyone pukes and starts to curse the constant revolving of shutting doors and opportunities forever missed and drowning in the petty souls that feel too much like home.