Hour Nineteen: Writing poetry in black pajamas while out of my mind with exhaustion and trying (unsuccessfully) not to fall asleep

Reclining in my nest

Surrounded by my loves –

Past, present, future—

Beckoning me towards

Dreams and desires but

The screen atop my lap

Umbilicaled to the lightening

Holds me down

Keeps me in place

As I drift away with the night

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