Little sleep,
no air;
anywhere.
Sat breathing, sweating
standing is worse
respiration and perspiration
this humidity makes me fidgety.
But wait!
The billow of the drape
as the air becomes movement
and the curtain sways and dances
then, like a tired ballerina
it curtsies, and drops once more.
Twisted long dark hours
suffocating
skin drip and turn, turn
over and back
the weight of air
shallow,
lung heavy
sleep evades me
as does the slightest night breeze
sheets adhere to me
as does the vaguest night dream;
now forgotten
the first birds call
in the sticky summer night heat
in the twisted long dark hours
suffocating.
My Words, My World 