04/22/2020
Floyd
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Floyd
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In the rush of the road
I must have gotten under that tar machine somehow. The black mass flows sluggishly, closes me in on itself, the tar sweats ruggedly and heavily, swaths of warm grey smoke, but a moment ago I was lying here in a clearing. Now it's all asphalt and ashes, in the rush of the road I drift in the tar, I dive deeper and deeper, until I think I notice a carnation, which still defies the stewing cobbler, and now and then a few notes of leather, as my jacket decomposes.
Then I believe my head under the asphalt, the smouldering seems to make nature, the flowers, trees and grasses shine fruity bright in the tar, as if the concrete makes them shine, tuberose, cedar and vetiver. With my arms attached to my torso, the asphalt slowly pushes me forward, hour after hour a few centimetres mixing with the remains of the forest. There is guaiac wood after a while, skull splits the trunk into splinters, swims scorched milk in the fire of the concrete, red glow'n poor smoking knights.
Hours later the hub seems to be reached, grasses sharpen the smoke bright green, before the undertone becomes warmer and softer as mosses scorch. Now I dream of tuberoses made of ash and amber woods, beguiling flowers with sweetish vanilla wood cream like incense sticks, mixing Nag Champa like patchouli, blurring the frenzy of the road to memory.
**
Black Tar is a smoker with unusual development. What Frau Holle has already hinted at in her commentary, namely that all these natural scents resonate in this initial wall of tar, is, when you smell it carefully, a varied iridescence from spicy-leathery to resinous-fruity, burnt milk, green-mossy and finally flowery-woody. All this is broken through the glasses of the smoking tar, creating the scent impressions described above in the text. Incidentally, smoked ham is never a suitable association for me at any time. Black Tar stays for about six to eight hours, projects moderately to skin-tight and is never obtrusive even at warmer temperatures, rather refreshingly grainy than tar-like paste-like. It is definitely special among smoke scents.
Then I believe my head under the asphalt, the smouldering seems to make nature, the flowers, trees and grasses shine fruity bright in the tar, as if the concrete makes them shine, tuberose, cedar and vetiver. With my arms attached to my torso, the asphalt slowly pushes me forward, hour after hour a few centimetres mixing with the remains of the forest. There is guaiac wood after a while, skull splits the trunk into splinters, swims scorched milk in the fire of the concrete, red glow'n poor smoking knights.
Hours later the hub seems to be reached, grasses sharpen the smoke bright green, before the undertone becomes warmer and softer as mosses scorch. Now I dream of tuberoses made of ash and amber woods, beguiling flowers with sweetish vanilla wood cream like incense sticks, mixing Nag Champa like patchouli, blurring the frenzy of the road to memory.
**
Black Tar is a smoker with unusual development. What Frau Holle has already hinted at in her commentary, namely that all these natural scents resonate in this initial wall of tar, is, when you smell it carefully, a varied iridescence from spicy-leathery to resinous-fruity, burnt milk, green-mossy and finally flowery-woody. All this is broken through the glasses of the smoking tar, creating the scent impressions described above in the text. Incidentally, smoked ham is never a suitable association for me at any time. Black Tar stays for about six to eight hours, projects moderately to skin-tight and is never obtrusive even at warmer temperatures, rather refreshingly grainy than tar-like paste-like. It is definitely special among smoke scents.
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