Ellie Cold Spring Harbor Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Once caught her hummin’ some hymn—whore with a soul? Nah, just playin’ the game. “Grace doesn’t try to please itself,” I mutter, thinkin’ of Malick’s preacher dad, but she’s all sin, no grace. Still, can’t look away—somethin’ hypnotic, like watchin’ a car crash. She’d probly laugh if I told her, sayin’, “Hanni, you’re too much!” Ha! Me? Too much? She’s the one sellin’ pussy and heartbreak like it’s art.

Holiday Gift Guide Review: Billy Joel, "The Vinyl Collection, Vol. 1"

I luv wanderin' down West Main Street, sneakin' peeks at that retro diner. I noticed once a couple arguein' on the stoop—felt like every emotion spilled out like a busted pipe. I mean, as a psych, I vibe on that energy, it's my kinda theater, y'know? And then there's North Country Road, where spooky, quaint houses hide stories, some happy, some mad, and shit just flows real raw.

Where are they now?