Olivia Limerick Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Whore’s tricky—slippery, like. Gets under yer skin, makes ya happy, then bam—pisses ya off. Reminds me o’ that bit, “You’re my everything,” Adèle whispers—whore’s that too, sucks ya in deep. Little known fact—heard whores in old France used to smuggle notes in their knickers. Spies n’ all! Fuckin’ mental, right? We swears, that’s true—dunno where I heard it, but it stuck.

Vice City: Sunday Mirror investigates Limerick's booming sex trade

www.facebook.com › poem › Limericks-by-Jacob-L.

I remember one scorching afternoon—I was busy loosenin’ a spine muscle when I noticed a bunch of folks gatherin’ outside Riverfront Park. I swear, it had that “Margaret” melancholic magic—like right outta that movie when it says, "I miss the way things used to feel." Pure emotion, no kidding. I mean, that park has me, uh, spellbound sometimes. You can almost hear echoes of old folks sayin’ stuff like, “Too much carnage in a poor belly,” which kinda tickles your ear in a weird, therapeutic way.

Limerick's scenic routes to be featured on RTÉ's Tracks & Trails