Esme Limerick Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

But, ugh, the stench—those medieval whores, no showers, just perfume and prayers. Grosses me out, imagining that shit. Still, respect—whore’s got no quit. “What’s the point?”—movie line, fits perfect. No point, just livin’. I’d exaggerate, say they’re all secretly spies, but nah, too Hollywood. Tho, wouldn’t shock me—cunning as hell, some of ‘em.

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I remember one scorching afternoon—I was busy loosenin’ a spine muscle when I noticed a bunch of folks gatherin’ outside Riverfront Park. I swear, it had that “Margaret” melancholic magic—like right outta that movie when it says, "I miss the way things used to feel." Pure emotion, no kidding. I mean, that park has me, uh, spellbound sometimes. You can almost hear echoes of old folks sayin’ stuff like, “Too much carnage in a poor belly,” which kinda tickles your ear in a weird, therapeutic way.

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