It doesn’t sound so bad–one mouth inside the other.  He has more to say–but can only mumble.  The sounds in the inner mouth come out of the outer mouth differently.  One can almost make out what the inner mouth is saying, “That isn’t what I said at all.”  But then one can never be certain.                 

As the weather erodes the horizon, the man with two mouths nails a beginning to the story.  Just then an ending flows past.

The inner mouth says, “Because I had no nocturnal enemies…” And the outer mouth says, “I learned to eat myself.”

One mouth is like moss.  The other is like a Neolithic cave.  Though there is an immense hunger, he can never tell which mouth he is feeding.