Zoe Bogalusa Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

I knew this one chick, swear to God, worked the corner by my old spot. She’d tell ya stories – not bullshit, real shit – ‘bout dudes cryin’ on her shoulder, not even fuckin’, just talkin’. Blew my damn mind! Who’d think a whore’s a damn therapist too? “This world’s a test,” like that faun says, and she passed it, motherfucker! Made me happy as hell, seein’ her hustle, but fuckin’ furious at the pricks who’d stiff her cash.

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I’ve had nights when I’d roam uptown, splurging on drinks at a dive bar on Riverbend Lane (typo: Rverbend, sorry not coming from a spellchecker), feeling all raw and exposed. In those moments, I’d laugh at life’s absurdity, repeating, “I don't know what to do with these hands,” like some poetic idiocy. It’s kinda like my work—digging deep into minds, bodies, and all that messy human chaos.

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