My greatest wish isn't
world peace
or
a pretty puppy with a pink handkerchief tied 'round it's little tiny neck
but that
the parasite that ate your rotten heart
would help to compost the rest of your
putrid soul.
(And I hope it takes a few decades.)

Upon the next shooting star
I shall hope with my whole heart
Not for exotic black pearls,
but for a cyclone to rampage
your neighborhood
and whisper into the knothole
of the tallest oak
to fall upon your house
when you're taking your
little bubble baths
and listening to a band
that you pretend isn't
garbage comparable to you.

When I extinguish the flame
on my 23 made of parafin,
I will wish for my student loans to be repaid,
better insurance,
cheaper gas prices,
and a misprint on your gravestone.

*heart*