Breathing Poem by James Mills

Night clings like splinters. Sleep spins dreams of yellow air.

Brittle breathing raps lungs, wraps bones.
Breath a cackle, exhalation a storm.
The house creaks, sighs; bored with this wheezing panic.

I will sleep.
Will proves no match for this demon.
Sweat damps too-warm sheets.
Pinned under cloying blankets, I'm trapped.
I slough them.
Cold demands a portion of suffering.
I cocoon.

The dance continues; world reduced to single mouthfuls of air.
I breathe; a cacophony pulsing like diabolical bellows.

World noise echoes. Snap fingers, see if sound exists outside this punctured universe.

Shadows crawl.
Time passes,
syllable by syllable.

Who but me committed the unwitting Sin?
Am I alone?

Morning.
I offer an arm to the sting of hope.
Air plunges in.
Oh, friendly needle.
I inflate.