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About Chicago

Me? I’m pissed at the fakes. Catfishers, liars, ghosters—waste my damn time! Had a gal once, profile said “adventurous,” turns out she meant “likes pizza.” Clarice, I wanted to eat her alive—metaphorically, of course, heh. But when it works? Oh, it’s sweet—like that first taste of marrow. Hooked up with this artist once, wild night, painted my chest red—dried blood vibes, ya know? Felt alive, surprised me even. “I am a breath of fresh air,” she said—straight outta the movie, fit perfect.