Some prose

Just thought Id start a thread for some writing that I'm doing every now and then. Comments appreciated.

This is from tonight:

Now

The present is lost from the moment it arises; it is a train hurtling along the tracks. Each moment passes in a blur of colour and all that remains is the persistent clatter of steel upon steel, reminding you of the journey forwards. Sometimes moments which pass are dark and ugly, where there is no beauty to admire – an industrial squalor, a gaping tunnel. In these moments our heads are still, blank and staring – the moments slide past unwelcomed yet unforgotten. Sometimes moments will pass which are so beautiful that we smile or even shout out in joy and snap our heads back and forth, spotting and clinging to these in the hope they will stay forever.
However, as much as we cling, as much as we ignore, the present remains. Although inseparable from both the past and the future it is infinitely more real, more whole. Unlike the others it is indescribable, like nothing you could ever imagine.
When we share ideas of the past it is like shovelling sand with a sieve. Bits are lost and we communicate only in parts and perceptions, often the bits which are lost are the most important, the bits for which there are no words, and when you realise this you see the beauty of silence. Silence does not remember, describe, upset or judge – it completes. There are no mistakes. So remember, when I look you in the eyes and smile, know that I am not smiling because of who you have been, I am not smiling in anticipation of the future, I am smiling because of the one thing I truly can share with you – this moment.

Shards

Silently I scream at your eyes and you don’t even blink, refuse to cry
they say they are the windows to the soul but yours are backed with silver
and all I can see is my own face staring back at me
You visit me at night and crawl inside my head
we lie together hand in fist yet there’s no rest for the wicked
and I can’t help but think I’d be better off without all of this

When sleep comes it aint easy
the sand in my mind is the sand of time
and this burning heat will turn it to glass
a thousand shards of shattered dreams, means ive gotta tread light
because my sharpness now exists only in pieces
and the one escape is to stay awake
but im afraid of opening my eyes to see
can’t cope with the sight of you asleep with your back to me

But it’s not your fault, the fault is mine
the truth is I don’t know you at all
I’m in love with an image painted by the hand of a weasel
and behind the canvas is a face in pain, a summer skirt laced with chain
you were born to be free
not tied up with hope and bound to me
Bound to me