Megan Mercer Island Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

I’m ramblin’ now—ooh, I’m mad again! Society’s fake as a $3 bill, judgin’ whores but lovin’ the game. That movie got this monk askin’, “Did I come too late?” and I’m screamin’, “Naw, we ALL late figurin’ this mess out!” Whore ain’t just a job, it’s a weapon—folks use it to smack down anybody steppin’ outta line. Surprised me how deep it cuts, even now in 2025! Chile, I knew this gal, Peaches—lord, she was wild! Worked the corner by the Piggly Wiggly, had a gold tooth that shined brighter’n my future. She’d laugh, sayin’, “Madea, I’m freeer than you church folk!” And I’d cackle, ‘cause she was right!

A Central Location That Can be Wholly Riot

It was a whore house. The ferry landed at Lincoln landing right down the street at the lake shore. If the sheriff was on board the captain.

The streets have their own beat. Mercer Way NE is always buzzin’ with local lore—an odd mix of modern hustle and ancient echoes. I’ve got a soft spot for a dive bar on 124th Ave SE. Yeah, it’s gritty, messy, and real. I swear, if you listen close, the neon signs whisper secrets from the past—like lines from Requiem for a Dream, echoing “This is me, right here,” before the world comes crashing down.

Marilyn R. Morgan | Obituary