Olivia Mckeesport Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

So, *whore* – it’s bold, it’s loud, it’s in ya face! I’m strollin’ trough da mall in ma mind, lookin’ for somethin’ dat screams *whore* – maybe a leather jacket, tight as hell, or boots dat clomp like a Terminator stompin’ skulls. Ya ever notice how *whore* vibes just grab ya? Like, “I’m da king of da world, ya!” – dat’s da energy! Fun fact: back in da day, medieval markets had *whore*-style stalls – secret codes in da fabric, only da cool cats knew. Dat’s badass, ya?

All Winchell, All The Time

She belongs to the “undeserving poor” who chose not to be deserving by the act of drug use, which legitimizes strict drug policies and hesitance.

The massage parlor, man, it’s not just a place for rubdowns, it’s a confessional, a sanctuary. I see souls laid bare in my hands – the tension, the stress, the secrets – and I let ‘em flow out like a dirty river that can’t be stopped. Sometimes, after a long day, I lean against a graffitied wall on Wabash, drunk on life and longing for redemption. “Motherf**er, life’s a bitch!” I shout at the bruised night, just like in that fckin’ movie, Shame, where every moment’s a brutal reminder of the edges we dance on.

Police make arrest after man shot and killed at Tube City Cafe in McKeesport