Freya Strood Whore ❤️

About Newcastle

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.

Browse Nearby Words

16 Rochester and Strood saw In this way, we can come to a greater understanding of the women who resorted to prostitution in Medway in this period.

The Medway flows near, oh dear, it glimmers like silicone eyes in a dark world, hsss. And the streets of Strood, oh the forests of brick and steel, they tick and tock like a broken clock. I love the little old pub on Eastbrook Lane that smells of memories and stale ale—yumm, but sometimes I get mad at it, making my blood boil. Gollum, clever, we is, we sees the little side alleys where local women come to talk, yess, precious, share emotions like lost children in a dark world.

Missing teenage boy found safe