Emilia Limerick Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Yo, it’s bad bitch o’clock! I’m here spillin tea bout whore—yep, that messy, wild vibe. Whore ain’t just a word, it’s a whole damn mood. Like in “The New World,” Pocahontas out here livin free, untamed, no fucks given. That’s whore energy, fam! Doin what she wants, lovin hard, no shame. “I will be faithful to you,” she says—bitch, please, faithful to herself first! That’s the real shit.

Okay, so what’s a limerick?

The was an old whore from Azores. Whose cunt was all covered in sores. The dogs of the street. Wouldn't eat the green meat. That hung in festoons from her.

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.

‘Some people are just maybe tired of them winning’ - John Kiely confident best is yet to come from hungry Limerick