​Sidewalk

I wish; my god I really wish.
I wish I could swim in bliss.
I wish I could sleep in anonymity.

Yet no.
Neon caricatures are broadcast upon every facet I see on every street I walk
and every room I stand in. Caricatures of image and vision. Caricatures of
yesterdays long passed. Never the painting of today. Never the mosaic of
thought.

Instead impressionistic fallacies trail my every waking moment.
My every shaking breath. It makes my pensive imagination wish.
Wish more ridiculously than any childhood dream of another world.
For this world- the one I hope for now isn’t another world.

It's a new reality.

One to free me from this that rips at my nerve
endings and leaves me numb and dead on the sidewalk.

Numb, like a caricature of day forgotten.