is the day of no advent.
is the day of amelioration.
is the day of the day.
does not have a flower bouquet.
is not red.
does not have guitar strings.
never came about.

what is the equation of multiplying tomorrow with the past?
it’s between three and four.
maybe perhaps a myriad.
things that show up tomorrow vanish yesterday.
the river is drying up.
the river is distorted.
the river is flooded.
tomorrow is the day of
noble deeds.
it is not today
it is tomorrow.
it is not a porridge soup.
we’re all here to die.
wishing that wishful thinking ends
is also a kind of tomorrow.
will there be any flower bouquets left tomorrow?
nobody and no ant will be able to tell.

when light seeps through the bushes
it foreshadows the advent of tomorrow.
when darkness seeps through the gleaming sky
it traces the path of foregone times.
where would we be without being in time.
firmly rooted in our age, in our present day.

knowing that tomorrow never comes,
leaves a red bruise on the cheek.
morning shower washes away
the shock that today is the same day.
tomorrow has turned into today,
or so i hoped
it’s just the date that has changed.