Liar's Remains

What does remain
   within a stolen moment
   of a liar's memory

Is it the drying stains
   of arcing blood scarring
   the walls of an empty room breathing
   the captive stench of a tortured truth

Or maybe the windy images
   of unfocused friends blowing
   black and white through
   the time contained in the instant

Could it be a constricting tangle
   of forgotten events preaching
   perfunctory laughter with motion
   fueled by perjurious pains

Is there a fleeting guilt
   the flint spark igniting
   the poisoned song
   of an earth-bound hell

Or is it only the truth that lingers
   pleasant and pure saying simply
   nothing