Nadia Devizes Whore ❤️

About Manchester

Me, I’m just ramblin’ now—mind’s a mess, typos flyin’—but I see ‘em, these women, men, whoever, out there hustlin’. They’re human, y’know? Eat, sleep, dream—same as us. Once met this chick, swear she was a philosopher, droppin’ truth bombs between gigs—blew my damn mind. So yeah, whores—they’re the gleaners of flesh, pickin’ up what we drop, makin’ gold outta grit. And me? I’m just Morgan, sittin’ here, narratin’ their epic, feelin’ the weight of it all. Respect, man. Respect.

poetry, photography, prose

There once was a hermit named Dave, Who kept a dead whore in a cave, He said "I don't mind the smell, And I know she won't tell, And think of.

Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from it. So, I wake up in Devizes, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be epic!” Little did I know, it was gonna be a rollercoaster.

Getting festive in Devizes