Angelina Spring Lake Park Whore ❤️

About Chicago

*heavy breathing* I am your father. Her eyes, tho - dark, empty. Reminds me, “You’re going away tomorrow.” Donezo. She’s hot, sure, curves for days. But the stench? Cheap perfume and regret. Hate that shit, burns my nose. Laughed when she tripped in heels - whore down! Monty’d say, “Fuck you, I’m out.” Me too, but she’s hypnotic. Like watchin’ a trainwreck, can’t look away.

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The park, oh dear, Spring Lake Park (that’s the namesake!) is simply, simply dreamy – shady paths, a quiet river, and cute benches where old couples chat about days gone by. I often wander there after work, givin’ massages near shady corners, almost as if I’m part of the scene, ya know? Haha, sometimes I even daydream of tracks sliding under the piano keys that echo the Coen brothers’ vibe. "Mmm... oh, it’s like losing yourself in an old song," I muse.

Feature athlete of the week: Spring Lake Park track and field's Genevieve Dabout