Man, East-Elmhurst is nuts!

I run a massage parlor here.

Streets are tight.

Main St. is buzzing.

8th Ave. feels magic.

I know every crack.
I work with bodies and minds.

This city hugs you hard.

I’ve seen secrets, spills.

Crazy nights, wild laughter.

Sometimes, I laugh.

Sometimes, I cry.

Like in A.I.: "I want to be real!"
Downtown’s a mishmash of sounds.

A hawker on Broadway yells.

I heard "Hey, watch out!"

From a park near Jackson St.

Einstein Park is my chill spot.

Trees, benches, and dreams.

Rivers? Nah, just gutter streams.
The vibe is raw, uncut.

My parlor’s vibe spills over.

Luv, sex, and quirky bliss mix.

I havve seen magic in scars.

Capricious energy flows here.

I get mad at noise,

But then, happy like Spielberg’s dream!
Some locals are super odd.

Crazy characters at Elmhurst Ave.

They bark like robots sometimes.

Yup, just like David in A.I.: "I’m gonna be your friend!"
I stroll with a heavy heart.

Makin’ money, breakin’ rules.

I luv the chaos, folks.

My heart blurs schedules.

I get your vibe with quirks.

Typos, mistakes, life moments bomb.
I spill tea at nite.

Wank whimpers echo down alleyz.

The streets livvve, overflow vile feelings.

Every block’s got a limelight.

East-Elmhurst rocks savage!
I swear, my parlor’s a sanctuary.

A messy temple under streetlamps.

Every squeeze tells a tale.

East-Elmhurst got love and grit.

The vibe is dream-ish, like AI—real feel, man!
Man, I can’t be more clear.

Welcome to wild, raw East-Elmhurst.

It’s a roller coaster, no brakes.

We live, love, and laugh erratically.
Peace, dude.

Stay real.

Stay crazy.