can you drink bong water

A rocky cool plummets in the still waters, sloshing up fans of silky bubblegum pop. Syrupy, dry, and tart; thousands of graham cracker life rafts torn to shreds by a typhoon of raspberry jelly. Animal Crackers is a bowl of earthy, moist, and refreshing pleasantries molded by pinching tendencies. The profile terminates into the tang of watered-down grape misted across menthol crisp and a whispering skunky sharp.

In grand pursuit, I decimate the flowers under my nose. Stricken by surprise, my palate is overrun in an instant by a tacky asphalt rubber sweetness. Scathing candy boils to the surface from the muck of sudsing fire. Crisp, tacky, and foul; the rolling edge erodes my flesh. The acidic advances are assuaged by a figgy gnarl, echoing grain fluff, and moist green dank. Pseudo-citrus licks stir up breaths of moist pine earth that goes a long way to meld the combative essences. Animal Crackers is ultimately a glue stick wrapped in layers of fruit skin and cereal grain. Swollen clouds of plump calyxes present themselves as sugary morsels.

Each petal ripe with vigorous bulk, the buds are presented like worked bags of icing; pillows trained into alien shapes from an evening of restless sleep. Short in stature, but explosive in spirit, Animal Crackers resembles OG Kush with an inflated ego. Portioned into horned marbles, the neatly spiked nests manage to tease a soft aesthetic. Quality gardens like Sky High are quite capable of drawing sheets of trichomes out from any genetic, but few are this stunning. Thousands of beads of false ivory twinkle and glisten as they smear a creamy glaze over the naturally weathered spectrum. A disorienting storm of kaleidoscope ice draws distant petals into two-dimensions through planes of cohesive static. The shimmering veil stacks so thick upon the foliage you could scrape it up with a nacho chip. Adding a verdant tinge to the crystalline cream cheese armor is the coloration of the sequestered flower below. Drained pear competes with foamy lime to conjure a pseudo-khaki bronze that stampedes over every inflated node. Sweeping mossy beige cliffs are occasionally anchored by twisting eggplant anchors. In willful contrast, sanded grape hues streak out from estranged peaks of Animal Crackers. Continuing to build depth of presence are lone firebrand stigmas that erupt and crash into frosted flesh. Staples forged from magma, the lively wires arc bulky bridges of frazzled fire across the atmosphere of otherwise chromatic stillness. Leaf to flame, my tastebuds are daggered by blades of washed out kumquat. Precipitating along the slicing tartness are hashy oats and crackles of black pepper. Mild chem echoes segue the looming lime bite into a porous wood edge. A sauna of flavor; rich bark steaming crisp chem and citrus bitters. After some time, the hashy note expands to become wildly satisfying and savory. A meaty broth of odd poultry that peaks to emulate chicken and dumpling soup. Revitalized and refreshed, I return to the peppered pine nettles lubricated by the succulent salve. Fumes of biting floral wood and herbal sour birth a whirling vortex of smoky potpourri. A smoldering tree sap finish drips from a citrus crisp as it claws for menthol gratification. Falling just short, the chem ascension peters out allowing the profile to return to a loaf of savory grain.

Blankets of invisible felt are draped over my being. Phantom gravity builds, drawing my shoulders down towards the lateral comforts of my living room. The more swaddled I become, the more my body feels hollow. A chilled mould eagerly awaiting to be filed with purpose.

Not left waiting for long, a dripping concrete solidity dribbles through my extremities. Tickled by frozen sludge, the hillocks of clumped cream bury me under heavy handed heaps of disarming euphoria. An ice cream sarcophagus corrals my mind into focus.


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