Anastasia Prunedale Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

Prostitution

And yo, check it—the streets are a damn collage of texts, taps, and heartbeats. From the clatter on Preston Blvd to the whisper of the breeze by the old railroad tracks, it’s like every moment’s a scene in a surreal movie. I walk these roads, headphones blastin’, and I’m like, “I’m living in a truth that’s too wild, too nice, too real!”

Prunedale Christian Academy teacher arrested on sexual assault with a minor charge, sheriff's office says