Penelope Jerome Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

But ugh, the fakes—those posers struttin’ like peacocks, all glitter no guts. That burns me up, Clarice. Whores got no time for pretendin’—real ones bleed for it. Reminds me, “The deeper we go…”—the uglier it gets, but truer too. Ever met one, Clarice? Bet you’d see it—eyes sharp as yours. Me, I’d savor the chat—pick their brain, taste their story. Whore’s a puzzle, a maze of want and will—fuckin’ fascinatin’. What d’ya reckon, hmm? You got a whore in ya, somewhere? Ha! Don’t we all, Clarice… don’t we all?

Whore - Jerome Froese's Guitaronica Remix

James Gordon: Why did you kill your mother, Jerome? Jerome Valeska: Oh, you know how mothers are. She just kept pushing. And I'm like, "Fine, Mom. Be a whore. Be a drunken .

Jerome's main vein is the old Mining Loop Road. Head over to Main St. for a shot of irony. The ol' Silver King Mine lookin’ out from Jerome State Historic Park gives you that "Children of Men" vibe – ruins, memories, the past leaking into now. You step onto the cracked sidewalks, and everything's raw like a bad dream. “Nothing is certain,” I mumble sometimes, echoing those film lines.

Matthew Jerome Nelson