Today

How little sleep can I get on a regular basis and still function? Will have to spend my weekend catching up, repaying my sleep debt.
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My brain
A poem

Sorrow darkens the edges of my brain.
Like a sponge, my grey matter absorbs whatever moist slime lurks nearby. It thirsts for more of the carcinogenic emotions,
self-destructive
self-vindictive
self-malignant.
You don't know my brain.
The me inside my brain wants
love
light
joy
peace.
My brain seeks disaster.
This is a story.
Poems are fiction.
Don't worry about me.

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I better turn off auto-suggest if I want to write more poems on my phone.
That was fun.
Thirty days, thirty poems?😀