an atheist once said, dear god.
I'm lying here, waiting for nobody,
contemplating that, what I  said,
every memory ago. and
I have just concluded
with my essay on life and reality,
but still I think
there's something I'm missing, and
I realize it's the flesh in this great beast
we call reality, that fleshly heart
that got torn apart
by this other beast, we call
love.
now we are living here, in this carcass
of some dead, decaying animal
we cut through,
so we can stay warm,
while we're waiting
for nobody.

(the whole world is a ghost.)