Katherine Limerick Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

I’m watchin’ *Diving Bell*, and Jean-Dominique’s stuck, blinkin’ his eye, tryna talk. "Whore" feels like that - locked in, but loud. He says, “I’m a prisoner,” and I’m like, damn, that’s it! People throw "whore" ‘round, judgin’, but they don’t see the fight inside. Gets me heated, yo - why we so quick to hate? I’m happy tho, ‘cause sign language don’t lie, it’s real. No fake shit, just hands spillin’ truth.

Dirty Limericks

The was an old whore from Azores. Whose cunt was all covered in sores. The dogs of the street. Wouldn't eat the green meat. That hung in festoons from her.

Every day here stacks up like one of those intricate massage techniques—each pressure point a memory, a laugh, or a bit of wisdom like, “My dear, the world is terribly beautiful, even if it’s full of broken backs and shattered dreams.” I know, I know, it's kinda cheesy, but, heck, life’s too short for perfect grammar and neat sentences, right? Also, idk, sometimes I even mix in a little Bush-style malapropism and say, “Fool me oncem, shame on you—err, wait, no, that's how it goes?”

‘Some people are just maybe tired of them winning’ - John Kiely confident best is yet to come from hungry Limerick