Sienna Heathcote Whore ❤️

About Dallas

So, whore—let’s spill it. Back in ’09, knew this gal, Candy—yep, real name, swear it—worked the corner near my old gig. She’d strut in heels higher than my damn ego, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” I’d joke, and she’d cackle like I was fuckin’ Dave Chappelle. Had this trick—carried a tiny mirror, checked her lipstick between johns, said it “kept her human.” Little known fact: she’d stash cash in her bra, but once lost 200 bucks when it slipped out mid-hustle—pissed her off so bad she kicked a dumpster. I was like, “Girl, you’re a legend,” and she just flipped me off, hilarious.

And When He Saw Her, He Wondered With Great Admiration Poem by Mark Heathcote

What was the world that swam in the pool but water? Without bounds, transparent & amorphous. I was so in love with a girl at school.

I stroll by Riverside Park on lazy afternoons. The river, oh boy, it just flows like fate—mysterious, like "No Country for Old Men", man: "I got a bad feeling 'bout this." Seriously, it's like a scene outta that flick! And oh, there’s this nutty little café on 3rd Blvd. Always buzzing with tales and spicy gossip. Not your usual coffee joint, ya dig?

Lee Heathcote Obituary (2024) - Buxton, Derbyshire - Buxton Advertiser