as i sit here plagued by forgetfulness
i realize that i am happy
i realize that my imagined suffering is a form of denial
that in actuality i do not care
i believe that i am content with my lot
that all i desire is what i am doing at present
that i will in fact realize my greatest desires in life
and that all the hatemongering i have been spoonfed
will also run down the cosmic drain
like so much curdled milk and mildewed honey
and that i will achieve happiness here
in this beautifully stark wooden chair
i will be happy
as soon as the final drops of detritus drip from my nose
and the final watery remainder of my brain matter completes
the Rorschach stain on my shirt
and i can no longer reason or comprehend  
i will be happy.