ahh the smell of roses plucked from the bush oh how sweet that you kill them just for me you wear patchouli to remind me of the grave you awakened me from and to which at dawn i shall return. and the cloves in your ciggerette remind one of the spices used to preserve my beauty even into death. i bathe in these scents enhale them deeply. and drink deeply from the grail of life. 
zahara:
I dunno why, but that reminded me of some of the people at the concert. The general odor of the whole crowd seemed to be of patchouli oil, cloves, pot, and ass.
zahara:
I usually don't get to go to many shows, mostly because nothing good ever comes around here. Fortunately, I didn't have to pay for the NIN show since it was an early b-day gift.