top of page

My blankets kill me everyday

Writer: rona CS
rona CS
Jul 5, 2025
1 min read

my calendar doesn't have weeks or days

No mondays I'm afraid of

no sundays I await

my weeks stretch between the days

when my blankets choke me to death

and the days in which I am resurrected

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
Isle of Romantic Bravery

I romanticise the fall Maybe I must crash And run my face across the pavement I need to hear What crosses my mind Before my mind splatters open To let the little scorpions crawl away I romanticise the

 
 
 
Foetus

//TW: GORE// I can feel the growing child in my throat Deformed and desiccated Kicking my wind pipes and robbing my breath Made from the sins of my mothers empty words It grows and grows its limbs sha

 
 
 

Comments


Subscribe! 

Thanks for submitting!

bottom of page