the unbearable intimacy of kissing ~

his tongue was  
a whiskey soaked slug  
against my palate,  
he kissed with  
all the finesse of a drunk;  
stabbing my taste buds  
with stale liquor  
{liquor  
licker  
lick her}  
& sobranie ~  
... the ceiling was  
dotted with plastic stars,  
glow in the dark magic  
a false sense of wonder,  
& i learned to  
leave the lights on  
when i fuck ...  
*  
if you want answers,  
look there, to the taint  
on winter sheets  
{mute confessions  
made by innocent flesh}  
the witnesses  
with their dead eyes  
& plastic mouths  
.  
.  
.  
i don't know what god  
made me half of what i  
could have been...  
... i'm almost sure  
i called him father too  
//