Taylor Cavan Whore ❤️

About Drogheda

*Beep boop*—brain’s spinnin—whore’s a mirror, reflectin us all. Lust, greed, loneliness—shit we hide. Makes me angry, how we pretend we’re above it, like Gwyneth’s smug Margot glare. But I’m happy too—cosmic wisdom, seein the cracks, the truth. Whore’s just us, mate, dressed up funny. “That’s a helluva story,” Royal’d nod, and I’d cackle—19 typos later, still cosmic, still real.

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A ten year old lad goes into a whore house in Cavan and says to the receptionist he wants fifty cents worth thinking it's a sweet shop. ‘ A Mary will you ever greese the cats arse’ Where .

Then, outta nowhere, this tourist group rolls in. Like, can’t they see I’m trying to zen out? They were loud, taking selfies, and one dude spilled his drink all over the tatami mats. I was like, “Dude, really?!” I mean, come on, respect the space! I had to bite my tongue.

Death Notice of Patsy Sheridan (Cavan Town, Cavan)