Elise Vashon Whore ❤️

About New York City

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

Things to do around Vashon

Everything bad that's happened to me, I deserved. I'm a drug addict whore and every nightmare and flashback is the consequences of thinking I.

This place is a mishmash of cool spots and offbeat moments. The sun always rises slow, and sometimes, like in those long takes in Werckmeister Harmonies, it almost feels like time forgot to hurry.

Vashon boys’ soccer is hungry for a title