A handful of water thrown like glitter to bead against reflective floors
Mirrors my cage in a hundred different ways
If I look closely enough I can see myself that free, that open
With every breath I taste the sharp tang of memories
That without you will never sit with sugar on my tongue again
Now I’m not blaming you or this wooden heart that bobs aimlessly without direction upon this endless see of caged reflection
Just exercising atrophied muscles with which I learn to stretch, to feel
Without drowning these polished plains I place cold feet on each morning
I am Alice here, skirts twisted above my head to obstruct the view
Although I know I do not wish to see it’s vast edges
Not unless they’ve painted you

(Can be sung to the tune of "Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town")

You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
You can deny what you have done,
But you cannot fool everyone.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Mueller's digging deeper,
No matter what you do.
No matter what you think or say,
He's got the goods on you.
So! You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

Putin can say he wasn't involved,
And you say, "Hey! Now I'm absolved."
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Republican friends in Congress can try
To undermine the Mueller probe and lie.
You're still going to be IMPEACHED.
The people in this country are jumping up and down.
Finally there'll be oversight: the Dems have come to town.
So! You'd better take heed; you'd better not bawl
When you read all the writing on the wall:
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

You think that you are free and clear.
Keep your eyes open as storm clouds near.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
You can say "No collusion" each day.
The truth of the matter won't go away.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.
Among your co-conspirators someone's spilled the beans;
Someone's told the truth about you,
And you know what that means.
So! You'd better take heed; don't weep and wail.
Worst case scenario: time in jail.
You are going to be IMPEACHED.

-by Bob B (12-10-18)

I’m going to get better at this
Your missing won’t ache as much
Horrific reinactments of your loss won’t haunt me
Won’t leave me gasping for air covered in tears of anguish
After each restless sleep
Watching others with their happy purrs won’t cut deep like this ravaged feeling of betrayal that mine no longer does
One day
For now I’m going to cry and rage and remain alone, without console
Hoping that one day happy purrs will greet me each morning once more

I’ve had a rough night.
I’ve had a rough decade.
To clear my head I decided to go for a drive,
the cold autumn air, the dark sky, the vacant streets and the glow of the traffic lights can sometimes heal.
Not tonight.
The cold air chilled me to the bone,
the dark sky is without a single star,
the vacant streets create an atmosphere of being on another world; completely desolate, utterly isolated.
The traffic lights are all red, like the anger that burns inside me.
I shouldn’t have gotten in my car tonight.
I have a single headlight, my passenger side burnt out sometime last week.
These things bother me more than they should.

I drove to my old home, where I spent twenty three years of my life.
It’s gone and I knew it would be, they started the demolition in spring shortly after I left it, during one of our coldest winters yet.
But now, a house is being constructed on the lot.
Where once stood a small, modest, cottage looking home has been turned into only a gigantic skeleton of what will be a modern house that holds no unique characteristics.
It will blend in with every other house on the street.
Notice how I say house, not home.
They built right to the hedge, Jesus, they didn’t even leave room for a yard or driveway.
Besides all that, I can only think
“my mother’s soul left her body on this land.”
The same land they’ve covered.
Her temporary bedroom when she turned palliative will probably be their living room, or maybe bathroom.
Whoever lives in this house won’t know that the most wonderful mother in this world died where their house is standing.
They won’t know it was a Christmas morning, and the last thing I ever heard from her mouth was “your arms are getting strong” after helping her to her OMS supplied hospital bed.
These things bother me more than they should.

I usually drive fast and play my music loud,
tonight I’m driving fast to get anywhere but where I am,
tonight I’m playing my music loud to drown out my sobs.
The kind of sobs that hit your body like aggressive shocks.
I hate crying, I despise sobbing.
I don’t get embarrassed, but I’m mortified by my own vulnerability even though I’m alone.
I even fake a laugh and shake my head.
Pretend it’s nothing, and that I’m an idiot, that “that’s just life” and so forth.
These things bother me more than they should.

When you lose the only home you’ve ever known,
are you destined to be transient eternally?
Is it possible to find someone who will love every part of you,
and love you enough to actually show it?
But most importantly,
does it ever stop hurting,
even for a ******* second?