I'm Delusional

My pen is starting to 

run out;

my dab pen mind you. 

I sit here and wonder 

what strange force has me flopped down  

in front of a journal,

writing 

poetry?

I might just be too high

and overstimulated by my other senses.

A delusional part of me is saying that

I have to put my imagination unto the paper,

at this 

very

instant,

and

show the world

my nakedness.

“Don’t let society clothe you

with worry”,

my schizophrenic delusion blares in my ear. 

“For to not be embarrassed

of one’s bare body,

is the ultimate form of 

revolution.”

I jerk my body to the right to try and catch the face

of the one who speaks 

but I am too slow.

A*****e!

I shake my head

with a smirk under my large bush of hair

and go back to writing.

He comes and goes,

quite frequently. 

A constant

reminder.