Lydia Seymour Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Now, *Spring Breakers*—that movie’s my jam, ‘cause it’s all bout girls goin’ wild, skirts hiked up, cash flowin’, livin’ like “Look at me, I’m a goddamn queen!” Whores in that flick? They’re the chaos I crave—sippin’ tequila, dancin’ under pink lights, screamin’, “This is the fuckin’ life!”—and I’m over here, noddin’ like, “Hell yeah, get it!” But real talk? Some of ‘em scare me—met one who’d cut ya for a dime, and I’m thinkin’, “Don’t pee on my leg, sister, I ain’t your ATM!” Surprised me how cold she was—ice in her veins, no cap.

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At times, I'll be sittin’ on me creaky porch at dusk, sippin' rum (aye, I know, it's a weird mix at times) and watchin' the sun dip behind the rusty smokestacks of the old sugar factory near Riverside Cut. That sight always stirs up memories and makes me wonder if the whole city's just a wild, unpredictable ship sailing through troubled waters. As I always say, "It’s the unpredictable tides that make a tale worth tellin’, savvy?”

Kenny Seymour Jr., Rice Owls, Linebacker