Ashley Osaki Whore ❤️

About Osaka

I reckon I love ‘em, whores and all their mess. They’re real, raw, like a country song I ain’t wrote yet. Makes me wanna hug ‘em, tell ‘em, “You’re enough, sugar.” ‘Cause lord knows, I ain’t perfect—my halo’s crooked as a dawg’s hind leg! So yeah, whores? They’re my kinda people—flawed, fabulous, and fightin’. Just like that *Tabu* magic—dark, dreamy, and a little bit naughty!

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Finally, I get to the top, and the view is insane! You can see the whole city. I’m like, “Okay, this is worth it.” But then, I drop a piece of glass. It shatters everywhere. I’m just standing there, mouth agape, like, “Did that just happen?”

Seattle poet Troy Osaki writes for a Filipino homecoming