Luna Mercer Island Whore ❤️

About Phoenix

This one time, saw a gal—Jenny, maybe?—workin’ a corner near some dive bar. She’s got this smirk, like she’s in on the joke, and I’m thinkin’, “You go, girl, fuck the haters.” Made me grin, Clarice, ‘cause she owned it—total badass. But then, some prick yells, “Dirty slut!” and I’m boilin’—wanted to carve his tongue out, serve it with Chianti. Whores get that shit daily, pisses me off. They’re people, not meat—well, not my kinda meat, heh.

Discover local groups

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.

Mercer Island High School jazz all-stars join Jay Thomas in the KNKX studios