my heart pounds slowly against the rhythm of the night

suppressing it slows the sweaty glue that eminents  from my pores with the slightest movement 

rendered motionless in this bed, these sheets my only respite, salvation but I’m stuck

because there is no air the cat cries at my window, exhausted, defeated, dim witted by the day

his shrill an octave higher than the thousand dying crickets that cry a story below

that pierce our ears, I hold down a beat with my heart, all one vibration, competing

all dying at our own pace, dim witted and desperate for nothing but a breath, one wet breath after another