FOR WOMEN LIKE US, IT’S NATURAL


The spectacle of my throat enjoyed by many.
I please men with my words.
I am the ultimate THROAT QUEEN. I say
I can handle anything. Maria Callas as Medea eyeliner on.

I am her. Soprano by choice.
I have seen myself dance in the ancient Greek vases.
Throat music begins the sacrifice.
Mucous sensual cave

a love letter to an ancient tribe.

Everything around us is like a tarot card; pillowy horses & knights, everything we touch is sacred.
Holding unknown words. Λο γι κήποι φα ντα σιωπηλά υπερ μα χείλη Put them in your throat.

A careful queen wears huge eyelashes, gold jewelry, and eyeliner to prepare her throat.
She’s not the wife she’s the sorceress, the throat queen’s always a sophisticated primitive.
Spiritual wrinkles shadows of ancestors, dicks on vases.

I am her. I am her in ancient Greek vases. So sophisticated I’m now primitive.

I please myself with throat noises. I make a soundscape spectacle of my orgasms
so my neighbors enjoy something besides drilling sounds and swearing and traffic noise.

Powerful throats contain much. You. Past the lips.

Relax, reader, your esophagus. Βένι κον με. Βένι κον με.

Realistic as Callas Medea, voice departs from my classical mouth in a language that is erased. Greek inside
English is depicted as Italian. What remains of my moving lips? Whose son wants to get sacrificed between them?

Choked, watering eyes and yes, oh yes, I am fine. I can keep it in my mouth longer now. I am sophisticated.
Must be controlled chaos, lubricated. Drink or eat a lot before to make sure you’ve made room for it.

Through the cardiac opening. I hyperextend. I am loving you several swords at once.