(no subject)

[goldenage]

I want to melt into the ground and mix with the pavement and stay under the road like a sea snake. I'll come up for air every few days and I'll climb up the telephone pole and people will wonder what the hell is going up the pole but I won't tell them and neither will anyone else. They'll pull out their hair trying to figure it out, but to no avail. It'll be a bona fide mystery. Maybe they'll call in John Walsh or John Edwards or even John the Baptist but no one will be able to figure it out. No one.

I'm freezing myself in storage until science figures out a way to make my dream a reality.