and i call it revolting

and tongues that wag like the tail of a dog,
shit-stained teeth that glare in the suffocating light,
bouncing off lips that crack with each move,
canyons of dry skin as if fingers peeled it
like a sickly brown banana, pus slithering,
a melted snake, with a melted red tongue,
flowing between its lips.
lashes like whips that slap at the cheek,
worms burying into thin ducts, curling upwards,
away from the white swamp with mold in the center,
a vile stench stinging their nostrils.

they lick the pus from the canyons,
inserting their tongue in between cracked skin,
gazing into swamps, fluttering the worms,
and wagging their tongue like a dog.
they call it romantic.