Audrey Coventry Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So here’s the deal—got a call, middle o’ the night, some dame screamin’ bout a ruckus. I roll up, cigar in mouth, thinkin’, “Great, another night in paradise.” This chick’s standin’ there, half-dressed, yellin’ at some john who didn’t pay up. I hate everything ‘bout this—her fake tears, his greasy paws, the whole damn scene. “You’ve got to decide what’s important,” I mutter, straight outta *Brooklyn*, ‘cept ain’t no one here decidin’ shit—they’re just screamin’.

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So, uh… picture this, right? A cobbled street—Mason St., for instance. Yeah, that’s the vibe. You stroll past that, and pause you just feel it. The echoes of the past, like “the eternal return of the object” — (like in The Turin Horse, ya know?) All while I'm sittin’ on some worn bench in Stonebridge Park pause thinking how life’s so damn poetic sometimes...

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