Esme Conshohocken Whore ❤️

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She’s sloppy, tho—leaves trails. Receipts, lipstick stains, half-smoked cigs. I’m like, “Whore, you’re a mess!” She grins, “Mess is my art.” Art, my ass—cleanin up her shit’s my nightmare. Still, I’m happy when she’s around, Clarice. Surprised me too—she’s got this soft side. Fed a stray cat once, named it Anton. “No country for softies,” she said, laughin dark.

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David's Bridal introduced a new line of whore-red dresses Thursday for wicked, impure divorcées with the audacity to have a shameful second wedding.

Sometimes I feel ticked cuz with all these tech meetups and fancy code sessions, the town sometimes forgets its history. Back in the 80s, Conshohocken was gritty and rough—like, hard edges, urban soul. Now it's trendy, but don’t forget where we came from! And hey, "City of God" vibes still echo—raw, unfiltered, and intense like a street mural crying truth.

Conshohocken Catholics mourn death of Pope Francis