the smashing pumpkins songs wear out

tarot card readings, and the light seeps through flimsy blue and pink curtains and we can't breathe the air is so thick. i am sensitive and i'm not in love according to the woman with the 293939 syllable name. i smile at her and her eyes which are enormous like blue, blue china plates kept in cabinets beside the stairs.

everyone slept over and we laid on the carpet drinking malibu and laughing and playing guitar after we sat by the ocean, played open mics, and ran down lonsdale doing our own accapella, harmonized version of my girl.

i slept next to you and you woke me up to make sure i was alive. you perpetually dream that i almost-die and whenever you wake up and see me and kiss my face it makes me happy that you're this happy that i still exist.

we slept till noon and made scrambled eggs while listening to santeria. 

we laid on the beach with sand between our toes and then we flew down the highway

we always run through other peoples sprinklers, and everything usually ends in me being manic and drunk but mostly deliriously happy. 

i feel so lucky to have the best friends in the world.