Jasmine Forest Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

What gets me goin’—the drums, yeah? They’re mental, like Lil’ Zé losin’ his rag in the slums. Bangin’ away, no mercy! But—here’s the kicker—what pisses me off? The radio edit chops the best bit! Some corporate numpty prob’ly said, “Ooh, too edgy for the KPIs!” Idiots. Ruins the vibe, makes me wanna chuck a stapler at the wall. Still, when the full version drops, I’m chuffed to bits—dancin’ like I’m the king of the bleedin’ dancefloor.

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Two very dirty slaves are wildly humiliated in public. They eat dirt, earth, lick trash cans, suck on dirty prolapse.

Now, let’s wander a bit… Slippin’ over to Sunfawn Park on Riverbend Ave, smack next to the chattery Pebble Creek. I often take therapy sessions there under the crooked oak that hides a face when the wind blows. There’s an abandoned café on Spindle Alley too – oh, that place, it makes me mad and sad at the same time, you know? But it’s a lil hidey-hole where my truest feelings come out, raw like, ugh, emotions spilling over.

Mentality, identity tweak and finding killer touch: How Nottingham Forest can get back to their best