Analysis of Alone

Feeling like I’m feeling. I’m feeling alone. Write what I was thinking, or write about being alone. Stand inside the kitchen, take a snap of my head. Drop some eggs in dye. Watch them darken instead. Walk back into the room and write what’s going on in my head. Trying to watch a movie, it’s just a picture instead. No place for family portraits. The Ern guards the kitchen. I grab the only thing, in life that’s been a real friend. Back in the day, a stuffy as a kid. On top of red bunk beds. Sad against a pillow, I find myself just typing again, Easter bunny no friends. Just a teddy in my hands. Kids are off at nanas, no baby daddy. One gone all the time, and the other one dead.