I woke up in the middle of last night
(This morning really
But so impertinent a distinction
And so hard to judge)
Thinking I was willfully standing in front of a speeding bullet train
Or on a serene and stunning moonwalk
But only daydreaming my air supply
And though my mind was spinning and yelling and warning and withdrawing
I didn't feel it
And my usually tricky itchy trigger gut feeling
Was lying back chillaxing and basking
In the brief bliss of sweet touches and soft smiles
And though I have devised some doozies in my day
This does not feel like delusion