Five idiots sensing all things crashing
crashing into the oil, the snot, the tears, the wax
and the tongue.
the naive tongue
can’t handle something a bit too sour
the worst of the idiots
Confident from the beginning
from the ecstasy of beginning
it twists, it mimics
twisted shapes of another tongue
slowly growing bigger
and suddenly growing closer
finally tasting what taste buds taste like
"I'm tonguing the smooth, salty, bloody crater again."
It remembers the first tooth