Jenjin
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Everything posted by Jenjin
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Gleaming scales of leathery dragon’s blood resin with a splash of acid, a crack of ozone, and a hint of smoke.
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Pink carnation, clove bud, pink peonies, Tahitian vanilla, sweet amber, and opium poppy accord.
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Sloppily sexy: sweetly spiced pumpkin juice with vanilla cream and wildflower honey, smeared with the vital throb of husky clove, swollen red cherries, but darkened with the vampiric sensuality of vetiver, soporific poppy and blood red wine, and a skin-light pulse of feral musk.
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A shiny, genteel, vintage ride for all those who feel dead inside: lime rind, citron, petitgrain, white musk, a swish of bay rum and a bit of black pepper.
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Toasted almond cream, white musk, and hazelnut sandalwood.
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Golden amber, frankincense, white ginger, and oudh. When, with flame all around him aspirant, Stood flushed, as a harp-player stands, The implacable beautiful tyrant, Rose-crowned, having death in his hands; And a sound as the sound of loud water Smote far through the flight of the fires, And mixed with the lightning of slaughter A thunder of lyres.
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Brandy-soaked pears, plum incense, and honeyed amber.
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Dazzlingly feral: deep, shadowy old growth bark and mosses and a drop of carnal pomace brandy.
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A soothing, contemplative blend of fresh aster leaves, green tea, zucchini flower, and sandalwood incense.
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It’s not quite as fun when you lose the key. Pink cotton candy, candied rose, and vanilla sugar.
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Conjunction, the veil of reunion. Ripples of sage-green silk covered in a mossy velvet-burnout pattern of wildflowers and slithering ivy.
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Pink fig and guava soaked in vanilla cream.
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Chrysanthemum and black tea with candied lotus root.
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Gooey.
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Five ambers fading in descending radiance. Dreaming as the Summers Die Thy home is all around, Sweet summer child of light and air, Like God’s own presence, felt, ne’er found, A Spirit everywhere! – James Staunton Babcock Artist - Caspar David Friedrich 'Woman Before the Setting Sun'
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Crypt chic for captivating cadavers: gleaming bone-white sandalwood encrusted with tomb moss, black champaca, and incense smoke.
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Otherworldly luminescent blossoms shimmering in a mist-veiled forest glen.
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Black plum, wild lily, and tobacco. Seven sorrows the priests give their Virgin; But thy sins, which are seventy times seven, Seven ages would fail thee to purge in, And then they would haunt thee in heaven: Fierce midnights and famishing morrows, And the loves that complete and control All the joys of the flesh, all the sorrows That wear out the soul.
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This year we'll be donating to Athlete Ally, a wonderful org striving to help improve LGBTQI+ inclusivity in sports and athletics programs for all ages. They provide resources and curricula for students, teachers, coaches, and teams. https://www.athleteally.org/ "Fear not, for even judgments which seem written in stone will succumb to the passage of time, softened by persistent exposure to the tireless elements, gradually ceding ground to monuments of the new age." A memorial garland of white sandalwood streaked with lapsang souchong, chilled vanilla, and benzoin.
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Latex, leather, and blood-red lipstick.
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Subterranean fruit compote squirting forth from a cardamom creampuff.
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Hrnnnnghhhuuurgleh: Dracaena cinnabari, blackened opoponax, labdanum, black oud, champaca resin, 3-year aged patchouli, and cacao.
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Pumpkin-puree baked into a walnut-studded loaf, steaming with cinnamon, nutmeg, and clove.
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A dribble of Dorian and a squiggle of Snake Oil, delicately stirred with a moss-crusted muddy shovel.
