I dug a hole and buried myself. I took everything I had and put it underground to decay, and welcomed the invisible world. A world of the unseen vitamin, where thoughts become the granules of life. Where dirt is edible and tastes like the sun. Where moisture rinses the nerve-bones back to conciousness. This fathom My fathom underneath a garden of park-weed, meant to mesh with the grind-stone until I am a solid part of the broken earth. See my epitaph it has not been written.