again and again:
i'm scrunched under a blanket
and
whispering on call with my friend
to get me out of this hell i called home.
on some days every creak and muffle is heard
with precision, and the atmosphere around
is cloudy gray and foggy.
on other days everything's eerily
silent. it's almost nauseous.
the air surrounding me is the kind of yellow
of clear plastic that's been used.
still,
like clockwork,
everyday
it repeats.
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 2:28 PM UTC
again and again:
i'm scrunched under a blanket
and
whispering on call with my friend
to get me out of this hell i called home.
on some days every creak and muffle is heard
with precision, and the atmosphere around
is cloudy gray and foggy.
on other days everything's eerily
silent. it's almost nauseous.
the air surrounding me is the kind of yellow
of clear plastic that's been used.
still,
like clockwork,
everyday
it repeats.
i'm stuck in a trap specifically made for me to survive but not thrive
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