Garbage Post: Poetry Slow Burn

Blunt rolled with poetry.

And I haven’t been back down since.

Flick my fingers fluidly in freestyle puddles.

Decompress, process, always scanning.

Push a couple of lines through air.

Fill spaces with mildly sweet spices.

Unmistakable aroma, you probably have some too.

Filled with several different strains, afterward, you need another.

What are you thinking about after reading this?

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