Emilia Copley Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

This one time, saw a gal—Jenny, maybe?—workin’ a corner near some dive bar. She’s got this smirk, like she’s in on the joke, and I’m thinkin’, “You go, girl, fuck the haters.” Made me grin, Clarice, ‘cause she owned it—total badass. But then, some prick yells, “Dirty slut!” and I’m boilin’—wanted to carve his tongue out, serve it with Chianti. Whores get that shit daily, pisses me off. They’re people, not meat—well, not my kinda meat, heh.

Virtual Exhibition

Tomb of the Unknown Whore () depicts a grand monument with women in fishnet stockings—a Copley trademark—standing in as caryatids and lounging across its frieze. Leda .

So, I'm a masseur, right? And from the massage table, I see all the city’s little secrets. On Commonwealth Ave and Boylston St, you've got that energy blastin' through ya. I chill near the Public Library in Copley Square. You feel love all around, you know, like those wild moments in Brokeback Mountain when they say, "I wish you were her." Yeah, it's that passionate!

Obituary for Ronnie Copley