Grace Somerville Whore ❤️

About Sydney

Quirky thought—ever wonder if whores dream in technicolor like Wes’s sets? Prolly do, all reds and golds, fuckin’ poetic! Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d bet my liver they’d outsmart half the suits I’ve eaten—er, met. Hah! Chatty today, ain’t I? Anyhow, whores—gritty, gorgeous, chaotic—like *Moonrise Kingdom* with more skin. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and I’d toast to ‘em—cheers to the misfits! Whaddya think, pal?

Phone Whore (A One-Act Play With Frequent Interruptions)

Chorus: You make me feel the need To let out my inner whore You make me feel the greed The fire I cant ignore. I try all that I can All that I want To get you to come to me and say To hell .

I been spittin’ out truths, so here’s some rapid-fire facts:

Grant (Somerville), Lynne