prod pi

the dawns most carefully caresses the panes of my window
like fawn I walk through the meadow
my sane mind mellow from herbal blends
early ties hollowed now I hold onto ends
this friendly reminder that what transcends
is simple, look at the road that lies ahead
but still
I play victim in my own lies,
dont cross my imaginary lines, 
whats the cost of a thought when I can’t pin down the cost of a life, 48 days and 48 nights
all these lost dreams screech to a standstill like a southern stand off I’m stuck in fright looking at my own reflection and hoping I’m just high
see I’m no lyricist, simply a somber soldier seeking something within
herein lies someone who is just a man with a pen
who looks at the man ahead as some kind of gem
but whats the bridge between the two? 
is it attainable? 
the absolute, ideal version I’m infatuated with? 
matter fact, like 2pac hail mary, hoping a holy ghost don’t bite my back
I mean I take a leap of faith and then go right back
smoke up roll up and sip jack, I mean jaeger, some kind of sensation to twist my mind 
gratitude before once aligned now looks like rotten fruit but don’t mind me I’m just an astute
observer of what defined me

standoff.

an1k