Claire Monkstown Whore ❤️

About Drogheda

Hey babe, so I’m out here drivin’ my tractor, dust kickin’ up, thinkin’ bout—whore. Yeah, I said it, WHORE. Not some random chick, nah, I mean that vibe, that word, y’know? Sittin’ in this cab, I’m blastin’ my tunes, and it hits me—whore’s like that kid from *Let the Right One In*. Quiet, sneaky, kinda dark, but damn, you can’t look away. “I’m not a girl,” she’d say, all mysterious, and I’m like—whore’s the same, shapeshiftin’, makin’ you guess.

One thought on “Monkstown”

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Then, I get this call from a guy on Church Road. He’s super chill, just wants to know about our new plans. I’m thinking, “Finally, a normal person!” We chat for a bit, and he cracks a joke about how he’s been stuck in Monkstown forever. I laugh, but inside, I’m like, “Same, dude, same.”

Death Notice of Patrick Joseph (P.J.) Daly (Monkstown, Dublin)