Samantha Poole Whore ❤️

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But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—makes me gag thinkin’ about it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares! Picture this: a whore leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, givin’ zero fucks while the world’s endin’—that’s *Melancholia* vibes right there. “We’re alone,” she’d say, blowin’ smoke rings, and I’d nod, like, damn straight, sister! Great Scott, they’re survivors—screwed over, sure, but still kickin’. You ever think ‘bout that? Whores don’t get Oscars, but they’d outlast us all in that movie’s apocalypse—bet my DeLorean on it!

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A whore properly signifies one that is married, and is false to her husband’s bed; and so very well suits the Church of Rome, (if they yet deserve that name), whose faith was formerly spoken of .

But then, disaster strikes. A wave crashes in and wipes out half my masterpiece. I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Noooo!” I’m pretty sure I yelled it too. People are looking at me like I’m nuts. Whatever, I’m passionate about my sandcastles!

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