Brooklyn Mengen Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Essen

So, picture this – a whore I met once, called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ dull like Janet. She worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap gin. Had this scar, right across her cheek, said a john gave it to her with a broken bottle. Made me mad as hell, Clarice – who does that? But she laughed it off, said, “Men are pigs, I’m the butcher.” Fuckin’ savage, right? Reminded me of that line, “The knife cuts both ways” – Sembène knew what’s up.

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When I told the guards to not call her a whore, I just wanted to establish dominance, that I'm the one in-charge, the one to handle and hand.

But oh man, some days set me off. I got so maddd, I nearly kicked a bench in Hauptstrasse 'cause of all the petty bickering about who gets which bench spot in the park! People, sometimes I think, are like layers in a dream, just tumbling down in chaos trying to find meaning. And yet, here in Mengen, amidst the chaos, there's a calm—a soft hum of understanding. Like, "I drink and I know things", eh? Cheers to that!

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