Made a Home…

building a prison for himself, he just, doesn’t quite know it yet…not my comic…

Made a home, in this, ragged place, it’s not much, but, at least, I’m, comfortable, living here, in this, rundown SHACK (not really!!!)…

Made a home, a prison is more like it, I’d, waken up early, made the breakfasts, and, waited for the children, as well as the adults in the house, to wake up, so afterwards, they are off to work and school, and me, left alone, inside this spacious prison you’d, left for me to take care of.

Made a home, but why?  There’s NO need for me, to have a home, I’m a, drifter in nature, with this need, to RUN, no way I’ll ever be, settling, not even for love’s sake.

with the frames, set up now…not my photograph…

Made a home, then, it got, torn down, made one more, that got torn up too, then another, and, that one, torn, and, I seemed to have, found myself, trapped, in this, cycle of repeatedly building, and, having what I’d worked so hard for, torn down, and now, I’d, stopped building altogether, because, what’s the use???  It’s gonna get torn up in the end anyway!