The water is boiling. No finger prints are signed above your sculp. 10 days since we have left the planet, but the water is still boiling. Trying to turn itself into a geyser. Nothing has changed. The pigeons still s**t over our house
's sculpt. Now it serves as a shelter for little teenage goths to settle down and play "Spirit catcher" with an Ouija board. No, we are not dead. Our souls are held in a laboratory for forensic violation against zen. This is not a report, or a cry for help. It is actually pretty cozy to leave your own bare soul. It is possible. We have escaped. Now we are, hmm, oh I rember again....We are atoms. They call us "atoms". There even exist bombs named after us. There is no grief to overtake us for the life, we were not cautious enough to live. Not sincere enough to love. Now that we are invisible but crucial, the sense is reincarnating itself. And maybe after all, it was the only thing that we were meant to be.