A Liars Reality

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

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.

Parce que vous savez que ce n’est pas comme ça.

In Bed With, Her Past

I put my head on her chest
“My heart is beating really fast,” She said.
“I know,”
And it was, it was quick and hard
And her skin was hot with her deep breaths
And her heart, beating hard against my cheek

"Relax, just relax,"
I was just resting my face there
On her bare breasts
She had tears and pain in there
I could hear them like fish
Swimming, and
I tried to breath a little slower
But
My heart It was beating
Hard too

Read Bukowski at my funeral
Thanks

My new ride. Bmw 330i

For Her, Once

I had a night with a lesbian once
And I shaved for it,
And she waxed for it and wore no undies
And she taught me how
To fuck
Like a real lesbian,
Which she was

And so I did, with my legs rubbing
Her clit and it
Wasn’t really like sex
As I knew it, but still good
And later, after
We still talked - and held each other
Like the heteros, she said

Meanwhile,
I still felt something
She was gay, she felt nothing
But the vanilla cigarettes
And cold in
Her lungs
I had a lot more to
Hold onto

I thought, but when you close your eyes
The world is fucking you
Regardless of sexual preference, so
I told her I like her
I like her mind
The way she says “fuck you”
And every time I say, “Faggot”
She puts nails in my mouth

I had a night with her, all of her
And everything pissed off, in her
Boys do not look at me, she said
Boys do not look at me
That way, she said
But I did
I looked at her-

That One Time

Remember that one time
That we kissed in the rain
I didn’t want to
But you made me
Made me stand in the pouring rain
With you
And we kissed, long
In front of everyone
It was wet
And anticlimactic
But It was love

That Fireman

Grandpa Mack bought this
Old firetruck
Once
At an auction
A bloody old firetruck
Out of commission
And we drove this thing
Black diesel exhaust and all
Barreling down the freeway
Grandpa Mack bought this firetruck
And I came along for a ride
Through the city streets
With the midday heat
With grandpa Mack
With my sticky skin stuck to that old leather
We drove that old firetruck, like,
We were lost
And I waved at the children
Like a fireman
But they didn’t wave back
It wasn’t like that
Anymore

Begging For It

I’m watching her move-
And touching her like I’ve never touched a girl before
Taking every touch like a telegram of tantalization on my skin
I tapped her softly
And traced letters on her back-
Carving sex into her skin with the edge of my nail
Hoping she could read this desire
I’m trying to change the mood with a quiet voice
And I can’t help but feel like a perverted old man
Posted outside a bar yelling obscene shit
At each passing piece of meat
I’m thinking I’m not like that
I’m respectful - we all got desire
But really it’s all the same,
I’m just far more subtle

Some bs.

There is this new couple talking. And I know they are a new couple, very new, mostly because what they are saying is nonsense. Pointless shit- stuff that barely makes any sense. What is really happening here is they are getting closer and closer together. This boy with his hand around this girl. Curled up on the couch at this library and his voice is all low. And she is pushing into him just mumbling nonsense. She’s saying something about a dance recital and he is agreeing, saying she is a good dancer. She likes to dance and he wants her to dance and I don’t even think either of them cares in this mumbling. But I can see that their minds are completely fucking racing. He is just thinking about her lips and her skinny legs. She’s listening to his breathing, she knows what she is doing, getting close, and he is touching her but trying not to move to much as to protect this soft moment. This moment that they are both swimming in and dancing around this mutual attraction. Both so satisfied they can barely even comprehend this conversation. They are both dreaming in this moment. And yeah, I feel a bit awkward and a bit jealous listening. But I also think I am in this dream, and then all a sudden she shuts up. He gets sick of the mumbling and kisses her on the mouth. I can hear it. The very comprehendible silence of this kiss. And god damn I felt that fucking tension watching. This thing unweaving right in front of me. It was quite beautiful, and so I left, wondering when they would wake up.

I don’t care about poetry anymore
You ruined it for me

May it be far off

When I first became a writer
I knew I had a lot to say-
I did it because my head
Was always unsettlingly dirty
With sad thoughts that
I needed to stop screaming
I had to unlace the mess in my mind
And tie something tangible to paper
Before It could grow into a mold
A convoluted blue mist on my soul
The strange thing was
I knew I was not alone-
And I was not the first to feel this way
I was not the first or last to think these things that I don’t need to say
So when I sat down, to write that first day-
I started with a quotation mark.
For I new
That everything I was about to say had been felt before
Said before
And maybe even read before
I promised to write until
I was dead
May it be far off now
But I will never close this quote
These sentences will trail off into infinity
For these are not my words
Everything has been said before-
These words are ours
Untwisted and trying to help
For the ten millionth time
You are loved-

What will you latch onto

Santa Cruz Cali.