Impertinent

Trace the lining of the wall you’ve been longing
to jump past like Superman, lick the sides, the edges, 
the whole texture and taste it curdle the insides of your
mouth, let the gimmick of an amalgamation
of a structured building heightened to please eyes,
seeming to be a permanent fixture berate them of
nearly every thought that occurs, every feeling
of significance that rushes past through the nervous
system; the night sky has seen lovers entangle
themselves into each other here, has seen the
frolicking back and forth of a cat, presumably, 
rushing away to some place unknown, 
has found lost letters, cases, pendants and
shapeless shapes of broken memories,
and has found you, sticking to the edge, 
caressingly, as if an only friend; it seems to
sway slightly, back and forth, a hum reverberating 
silently over the quiet city, only the occasional 
sigh of the wind seems to turn back to you, 
you’ve seen the dimming lights constantly for days,
the cigarette smoke fuming out of your imprisoned
lips, your eyes brim with tears, or perhaps it is
the gush of the all knowing wind, whispering to you,
calling you out, asking you to speak, to be, to move,
while you slip out of your clothes, your skin,
and lead your mind to conclusions of how people fall
quite often of tripping, and stark naked too, sometimes,
and gently caress your arms as you dare not slip a
peek to the ground,
and your lips speak inaudibly how nothing, explicitly,
nothing is ever built to last, as you fall,
wishing for the umpteenth time, everything was a dream,
when it was.