Pater Noster, Hypomanic Edition
A bit of silliness decidedly not sanctioned by the Vatican. No hate mail please!
Hypomania, who art in noggin, hollow rings thy name.
Thy excessive good humour come (and I’ll run with it!),
Thy randiness and ditziness be done away with,
In my pants where there are ants as it is in my belfry where there are bats.
Give us this night our super-duper mega-efficient 10,000 candle-power insomnia,
And forgive us our sensory defensiveness (where “sensory” is to “flayed” as “defensiveness” is to “J. Edgar Hoover”),
As we would forgive those who trespass against us if we could remember for a nanosecond what the hell patience and forbearance actually are,
And lead us not into the arms of a sex-crazed alcoholic plate of carbohydrates,
But deliver us from the consequent dysthymic flame-out. Amen.