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

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 ****

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

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