venom on her lips

to be a woman who feels

welcome to erotic soul, sanctuary of poetry, temple of longing, black velvet mystery, serpentine journey, big juicy permission slip to want what you want and be who you be.

There is a woman who never becomes. She is born and molded and stays trapped inside boxes inside boxes inside boxes. She does not know there is a way out. She does not know she is serpentine splendor wrapped in human skin. She does not feel the cosmos unfolding in every atom of every cell of her body. She folds into herself, into rigid shapes and dulled edges. Her tongue no longer hisses and her teeth do not bite. She has filed down her fangs to ensure she cannot not tear through the walls of her cardboard prisons. It is dangerous in the open air. That is what she thinks.

There is a woman who walks down secret corridors and lets her eyes adjust to the darkness. She feels electricity running down her spine and curving around her hips. She sensitizes herself to her environment. Becomes the creature who slinks. When she is noticed, she becomes more dangerous. She expands space and herself in it. She allows her whole self to become electric. She does not need to know who she is. She is a field of fluid aliveness.

She thinks less, feels more. Senses more. Lives in the mess more. Wants more. Leaves the ether to plunge herself into the dirt of the underworld more. She drapes herself in fuck and amber and when she walks down the street she enchants every plant, man, animal, and trash can. She does not stop to smile at everyone. You recognize this woman. You avoid her, too. She is equally enraging and awe inspiring. She is warm. You feel the embers heating the air around her. She is kind, and she is not fawning over what you or anyone is thinking of her. You feel her. She is heavy, damp, luscious. She is the deep blue lagoon in the secret forest shrouded in a silver mist. She is right in front of you. Do you see her?

She is a mortifying blend of lover and venom. She is excruciating. She makes you want something you have never been able to name. She changes you, with a word, a gesture, an exhale. Sometimes you resist. She comes back, stronger, sweeter, more intoxicating. You cannot deny the desire she evokes in you. Doing so would only constrict your airways. You know this. You have done it often, yet you forget. You forget what it is like to inhale all the way into your body. You forget you are luminous darkness. You forget you are the space of the black velvet serpent. She is here to help you remember.

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