I too, am wishing.

Looking back I am not so sure there's a reason to be sad, and you know that
hey,
even if I didn't run around wrapped in a shower curtain, I am still around and writing
and even if I sit there bashing the police department, I generally just don't care and you're making it up. Well, not you, me actually.
I like questions because they're the least coherent and require no answering, and if they do, well all the worse for them.
We didn't convert anyone, and I'm all for the Jewish faith, 'cause Jesus looks like any other bearded duder when he's wallpainted. He was pretty cool I'm sure though, so no hurt feelings.
You know there was chaos but it means nothingness, really, we just made it everything when we butchered its original language.
I don't believe in creation stories, I think we were all just the throw up of a giant yellow striped cat. An overweight one too.

I've got my act out there and together, and really, we know what's up.
I've got more arrogance than you can handle, so I'm just putting it in a blue jewelcase. Maybe beige.
And really, I know I'm better, but I won't tell you since that's just smug and I'd be selling myself prickishly short.

It's all about pretending to be on drugs and doing nothing with it.
I'm just letting it all decide itself - and standardized tests are waiting in their mutitude, but I'm a fucking poetry major. There's at least one advantage.
I like mathematics more than your mother's brownies. They make me fat, while math makes me puke out my brain cells in obscene numbers.
I want a counceling license. Yeah, that's right.
They'll give me one too - and then look out and bite your elbows. I'm gonna be out there helping insomniacs deal with their nosejobs. Don't warn them of my psychotic behavior at poetry readings - I want it to be a surprise. And besides, I'm tachychardic anyways.
Maybe, I'll just think that I'm worried while I enjoy my coffee, 'cause you know, I don't really give a damn. And even if I do, it's all 'cause I want you to think so and fuck with yourself, not my mindless drivel.
No worries, no attention, just enjoyment of my personal faithfullness to the paperclip god and the shredded documents in the trash bin.

Hey, all I want is just stupid smiles and air on my hair. I think I'm getting it too.
Who said I wasn't happy.