APNEA

A good night’s sleep is all I crave.
But, I have become a slave to my disorder.
Limbs once nimble now churn as I burn
the midnight oil. I toil each night
seeking rapture. But I have been captured
by my demon and random thoughts swirl
as if strewn by the wind of memory.
Heart beating faster, a runaway freight train
through the prairie of my barren soul
with no control of my own.
I cough and groan, throat emitted as I spit
in a foaming fit of rage, roaming the halls madly.
Sadly, I’m ready for a padded vault.
It is Disruptive Sleep Apnea’s fault.

© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013

SUNDAY WHIRL - Wordle #111
SUNDAY WHIRL –
Wordle #111

Written for the SUNDAY WHIRL – Wordle # 111

and presented at POETS UNITED – Poetry Pantry #153

also Khara House’s 30 x 30 Challenge – Day 2 – Slumber

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6 thoughts on “APNEA

    1. Use the infernal machine, but I get so restless (my overactive imagination, me thinks) that my mask slips and it’s ineffective. I replace them faster than I fall asleep, Sheryl. Although, for some reason those word evoked images of my disorder.

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