Lily Whitman Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Phoenix

So, he finds this chick, right? She’s struttin’, heels clickin’ like a clock tickin’ down to doom. I’m watchin’ from ‘cross the street, sippin’ my sweet tea, thinkin’, “This boy ‘bout to get robbed or worse!” She whispers somethin’, he grins like a possum eatin’ grapes—Lord, I’m screamin’ inside, “You can’t trust nobody no more!” That’s *Children of Men* realness, y’all! World’s fallin’ apart, and Joe’s out here chasin’ tail. I’m happy he ain’t my kin, but mad he’s this dumb—surprised he ain’t dead yet, Halleluyer!

Walt Whitman

Autumn Rivulets: To a Common Prostitute Be composed—be at ease with me—I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty as Nature, Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you.

Every crack and crevice of this city speaks to me. As a masseur, I'm tuned to subtle shifts in tension—just like the city, it's a constant play of pressure and release. Whitman (us) is raw, it's real, and every day is a reel of movie moments. Even if I spill words like "You merely adopted the dark!" every freakin' damn time, it still fits the vibe.

Jimmy Lee Whitman Obituary January 18, 2025