his mind is sweet  
it tastes like  
wine and poetry  
fire and history  

his soul is something  
else entirely  
wild, yet sweet still  
it could build or ****

i listen to a prophet
and smoke a rolled tobacco blunt
as i write this

where is peace, for the simple
or even bliss
for the black of mind

and soul. I feel
a holy desire
to pull down mountains

to the land of the gods
i aspire
but, do i have what they require

a simple mind
a lover not cruel, yet unkind
a heart that beats in digits
in binary, to a love lost to time

what will I be
tomorrow, next moment
tell me, if you know
dear shadow, what am I

Ninté

now twenty three,
over half a decade since I learnt to see
no energy left for fake contemplations
or hypotheticals, I would like to see

started this with a fire on my lips
ending more aligned with wisdom

the philosophy of victory
like freedom, comes
in twos and threes