Humidity

I woke up in my own sweat again.
It clung to me like a fog of web clings to
Morning dew-thick grass. My dreams
Have been breathing down my neck
Hot and damp, stalking my sleep, a 
Predator panting upon a prey, sweet
With adrenaline. 

                               It must be the weather,
Cold and humid. Lady Pacific’s milky breath
Is all around me in the constant drizzle,
Fluttering the eyelashes of moss and lichen 
Hanging on stern straight-backed conifers.
She might have reached past the surf with
That wall of thundering waves clawing
Its way to land as a primordial fish
Tries to not drown its tender new lungs.

This is no tropical jungle sweltering with
Heat and bad dreams. The tall coastline
Turns away from the nonsense of 
Nightmares. It only stares you down
From the misty horizon and inspires
With the bleakness of despair you cannot
Wake from. 

                      And I awoke gasping 

Again.