A Liars Reality

Unmasking the mundane. Small moments at a time. All Original Content

Sketch of the day

I Am

I was a rhapsody
Black eyed and bleeding
For love and
Anything but alone-ness
Listening to me like I was-
Your favorite song
With chills up your arms
And I sung until my
Throat was dry
When you finally told me
I was a scratched record
And left me quietly humming
To myself like I was-
When you found me

Summer With Her

My life is hot days
Sun burnt and motionless
I am bronzed and rusty
The sweat on the tips
Of my figures
Only makes her
Gold leaf skin
Glisten at my soft

Figure 7
New haircut
Im sorry I keep trying to sketch you into reality. Im sorry I’m a perfectionist. I know I can’t erase those parts of your personality. Im sorry I ever tried.

People will rub off on you
Like wet paint
No matter how clean
You claim to be
You will find
The colors of their lives
Stained to your favorite clothes
Like a canvas
That you can not hide
Any longer than you can
Hold your breath-
And those that are
Purple in the face
Where not painted that way
But wandering
With crooked necks
Eye brow-less
Asking where the art went
Paintings of people
And flowers and rivers
Oceans, cites and sky’s
I will hide in the museums
Of these beautiful minds
With my eyes forever open
My clothes forever dirty



Hiking the Oregon mountains
Nature shot

The Blind Dogs

The clash of dishes and
Conversations that clash

About like a busy Chinese market
With dead chickens hanging from
Wires, threaded through broken ankles

Kitchens cluttered and dirty
Like a scale model junk yard
Flies as seagulls
It mocked them and they complained

What a mess, the scrapes of left over meat
Dry and hard and juiceless
Stuck to the china
And fed to the barking dogs
With blind eyes and strong noses

Still yelling, and cleaning the kitchen
But even on the spotless nights
When the silence would echo off the granite
With all the hatred sweated out of their mouths
With dry lips in the stillness of it all

The blind dogs would bark
At the lingering smell of that bloody meat

The Silence After

There was the yelling
Also, the underwear on
The stairs

The yelling and the silence after
That almost had the momentum
To keep us screaming
Claw at the resolution
Like a slick cliff

She screamed with beauty
I would smile and smile

The energy that lingered
In the air after
Was heavier on my skin
Than her naked body

Lucky Boys. This Is Rough

There is Jeppe,
The indian immigrant sitting next to me.
He tells me he’s waiting for love,
while he whistles at slim legs
As they walk along the sidewalk.
I look too but I don’t whistle. Jeppe is always here, here on a date with a girl that won’t date him. He’s asked and asked to the point of a flavorless friendship. She says, he’s just not right.
But this girl. She keeps laughing at his jokes and I wonder why,
Why can’t it work.
But catty-corner to me is my lost lover with her new boyfriend. Shes bright eyed and I could whistle now and she still wouldn’t hear me. I remember her telling me the timing wasn’t right
While she sucked the blood in my veins to the surface of my skin,
Leaving me these sex receipts and no refunds. She would say, “don’t tell” I still see the shadiness in her face and it makes my hands shake. I wanna scream at both of them and all of them. Jeppe and this miserable boyfriend. I wanna tell them to run from these painful women.
But I am a shallow boy with a quiet heart, picking pedals off flowers asking fate if she’s the one.
I was never loud enough to save myself.
Good luck boys.