You are nice
You've always been good to me
I notice your love
I embrace your soul and accept it gracefully
But I am not really the one
I'm sorry but you should know
I'm toxic and distorted
I will only hurt into your core
You see i don't feel as you do
And it is something sad to say
I know i would actualky like to
But i don't have a choice
I don't have a say
I cannot guide what is in me
I cannot control my destiny
We are not actually meant to be
Though you may be all i really need

Catch That Thought
  
Catch that thought.  It closes down.
Paul Tillich once said to my friend,
There are those thoughts that never come again.
I don’t agree.  Not wholly, but
Within the moment that flies by,
It vaporizes.  I,
A Pooh of Little Brain,
Not very focused  
Need to trap the moment
Or it’s gone, and I must wait
Until some friendly fate
Brings back the catalyst
That brought
The then-what-felt
World shaking thought
And write it down
Perhaps to get it out
Into a world I think about
Spontaneously.

Catch That Thought 10.12.2016
The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II;
Arlene Corwin

You sometimes tell me I can't love,
Really? Wow. Good to know.
You sometimes tell me I don't want,
Really? Thanks, well now I know.

You sometimes think you know what's right,
And what I'm supposed to do,
Really? Great! I'll really take
The things you're giving me to do.

You sometimes think you have more info
On my life more than yours,
Really? Wonderful. Please do tell
What my life seems to tell.

You know me, and so you always say
You know of all my character,
You somehow think that you could be
The ambassador of my character.

Great, oh grand! What wonderful news,
I've always wanted to be
Told that someone else knows me
More than I know me.

When I  have a Friday night...
When I have $57 to last me until late July...
When I have holes or stains in all my clothes... When I am more a burden, than not...
When I have a smile even though I'm lonely...
When I have lost my friends because I'm not convenient…
When I work myself sick for a $2 trip...
When I finally can't possibly give even just one more hand...

You're doing your best
To make my life a hell of a mess.
Personal maid I  never hired.
You dont need breaks, your weak bones don't get tired.
You put more dirt on every floor,
Spit on dishes,mop away my hidden wishes.
Throw out pages of all I am,every shred out the door,
Into the wind and out into night,Goodbye pages,forever out of sight.
You try so hard to make my life hell,
You're doing your worst,I can tell.
You're the personal guard I never hired
Never had a chance to say your fired.
You pull me away from fights,just to start them.
You don't love my needs,you depart them.
You don't end all things bad,
Just start all things worse.
Why such a person did I deserve?
A person with lies that holds no words!
Try as you might to tear my spirit down,
I'll always wear a smile,you'll always wear a frown.
Try as you might to burn my house down,
A Millon torches can't set a spark to a mansion below the ground.
Try as you might,pull me out of light, take my sight,
I'll still have everything you stole,this praise I carry you shall never know.
So drop my dishes!
It'll give me a chance to sweep away the dirt.

She clung to his waist as if the last fisherman pitched around a lake.
She was not gonna let go until evening
fell,
until they’d made their hotel;
eyes on the autobahn ahead.

They'd once trickled into terraced tributaries hankering after hidden
held waists on corners, continuously,
as they learnt of not letting go,
kept the sense of cologne pecked necks,
fuliginous chimney pots
and the fume of hollowed out leaves on rain soaked trees
stacked next to each other on the latent apothecary's patent leather shelf,
safe in the old factory of a shell.

Their single cylinder sang along the road,
and she did not hear him singing.