Example of the blanket: what I do have. e.g. a surface of like fluff, hurting head born from the body, head outward from the body. Like a born baby, warmth spreading outwards. Got grey and gone. There's a bad taste spreading and he's stood in the middle waiting to apologise, stood in the image of a grey womb or being dumped in Exeter or just onto Exeter or worse, I'm sorry this is probably a kind of depression. But anyway blanket, you could just stop talking and see what it is, that's how you switch on a light. Trying to say a thing. Then there's this other one. I mean the edge is jumbled like a bad edge?
God! What I'm trying to say is that the blanket goes up rippled to its edge and then the sheet, sheet's dry and emblematic somehow. A line at the edge of the blanket, that's what it is, an edge is just a line. Some threads go out and over from it though, disrespectfully I find. Patterns of the blanket are contained, blankness of the sheet and colours too, then sheet creeping outward, blanket's edge is bleeding in, edge of the threads. Scampering from that edge, gone out. Old goosey somewhere in that gap I'd say, whispering, speaking: in the goose's mouth goes the down, inside the down goes the edge, goes in grown up or else, from someone else or some edge. Nineteen thousand seconds of doomscrolling hence, followed immediately by wet snowflakes hitting your face.