Seize the day
because the night is for the sleepless
and you got expelled from that clan
with your paranoia with a possible,
proximate end. Approximately
at twenty two past two a.m.,
you find yourself pondering over death
as you rest in peace your goodnight kisses
and entomb them on your bedside table.
Your alarm clock has so many weeds and ivies,
that when you place yourself on your knees beside him,
you have to hold a machete and remain steady
for they may want to enroot your feet.
There are so many new members you’d love to meet;
the ones who wear the wolf-fur cloaks
and invade hidden stars with neon torches
and electronica-blaster boomboxes
in every break. Probably you made
the mistake of getting too tired of life,
but the ambience was becoming too delusionary.
So you put the revolutionary to sleep –
not on a cave, but on a grave –
and now you’re hugging him strongly, nearly chocking him,
so it doesn’t slip away from your arms; soaking
his cold, pallid cheek with forsaking tears
while you whisper “I’m sorry” to his ears.

Seize the day,
because the night is to reanimate
what you so much loved. The reflection
on the puddle at the end of the cave
injected some wilderness in your blood
that made you howl until you scratch your throat
and your voice fails. Your cry fades with no answer sign
and you see the neon torches’ spotlight
flashing out of the woods.

And suddenly you come back to time.
The sun’s three hours away of rising,
so you hastily undress, regress
to the cave where your former self rests,
kiss his forehead and unsurely assure him
tomorrow is another day to seize.”