golden.lies

23

[goldenliessilvermoons]

one day my hands will hold the flowers of my mind’s garden

[goldenliessilvermoons]

[goldenliessilvermoons]

one day my hands

will hold the flowers

of my mind’s garden

s.h.

[goldenliessilvermoons]

like a camel you

carry water through

every desert

[goldenliessilvermoons]

but what do you do

when the shadow becomes more beautiful

than the actual thing

what do you do when

the pain becomes more beautiful

than peace

[goldenliessilvermoons]

but can shadow and dust

ever hold hands

can they ever know each other

without the blinding light

of self awareness

[goldenliessilvermoons]

light never deserts

the one who never

abandons the vision

[goldenliessilvermoons]

dust gathers

in pools of light

and then spills into valleys

of darkness

-history of you and me and every body

[goldenliessilvermoons]

but the map of your whole life

was drawn on that bedroom floor

[goldenliessilvermoons]

empty souls, full bodies

empty bodies, full souls

the seasons change but are never completely full

[there is always an emptiness lingering, waiting to swallow something, anything that doesn’t move]

[goldenliessilvermoons]

pain is so ugly

because it never lets go

of its memories

-s.h.

[goldenliessilvermoons]

sunlight

reminds dust

of its beauty

[s.h. goldenlies]

[goldenliessilvermoons]

[do you see/this sea in me/that erupts every time i am reminded/of the way I used to be/before I learned i wasn’t free to be the way i wanted to be in my dreams]

[goldenliessilvermoons]

capitalism taught us

to save our money

for rainy days

but how many people have got

jars of

books and peace and god

to save them

when all that money’s gone

-s.h.

[goldenliessilvermoons]

[goldenliessilvermoons]

[goldenliessilvermoons]

there is nothing wrong with this heart

except that it has a fever

it sets fire to its own blood

but its flesh is ice cold

my patience is thinning and

so is my blood

if i could hold my heart in my

bare hands

i’d squeeze it to a pulp

until its fire eats away at its ice and

none of it remains

i’d hold it gentle

like a baby that cries and laughs and can’t decide whether to be

miserable or happy

i’d stuff it full of

seeds

and pray for fruit to grow

i’d give it wings

and free it from battling to keep

my body afloat

-my heart is sick [of me]

-s.h. [goldenlies]