decent + full of hope + a slight sense of neediness.
she'll be coming this friday.
before trinity, there was richmond's posh 'femme fatale', rich + famed, beauty + attractive peroxide blonde ariana lucas. stepped on my wooden, wrecked porch with black leather boots + tapping her 4 inch heels obscenely + rapping her painted fingernails on my door + pouting sluttishly and...
"jamie? dupree?" croaked her, with sapphire irises staring me with highly estimated arrogance.
"yes..." she seemed overwhelmed. it weren't those delicate, psychic 'waves' nor a guess. she's so glam- even a hermit like i am have heard + seen her. "aren't you going to let me inside your place?"
i didn't like her tone.
i'm sensitive to sarcastic vocalizations.
"your teddy + his tv maidens. a pot of gold somewhere out there waiting for you," i said metaphorically + closed the creaking door, continuing with a baring-gould writing + trashy women magazines.
i need to take a deep breath of oxygen + a pack of smokes.
i need to end this.
no, this is not a gift.
i need to get a nicely-jotted job.
no intepretations. not being a medium.
i'm drugged out.
trinity will be the last person i'd help.