I'm not a person who collects things
I live a very minimalist's life
But I have a bag of treasures
I keep close to me day and night

I sleep on an old painted daybed
It squeaks softly as I lay down
Most of my clothes are second hand
And my shoes a little worn down

But I have some precious treasures
Hidden in bags of different names
Fendi, Burberry and Prada
Leathers and fabrics of worldly fame

My treasures are hidden deep inside
In makeup bags and zippered pockets
Shiny compacts full of velvety colors
From Paris, Milan and Rome

A black cloth bag of 8 tiny bottles
Protected from the sun and rain
Bottles of perfume oils made in an alchemist's lab
With names like Dragon's Milk, Snow White and Bliss

A Christian Dior handkerchief or two
Hangs delicately inside the bag
In case the breeze brings on a sneeze
Or I notice a tear in the eye of a friend

by Mark Lj

why pluck
the jasmine
at my window...

what will I tell
the breeze,  
that go follow

its withering  
among idols
framed pictures

incense fumes  
severed plucked
presented wreath

homage to the gods,  
or will I sway the
bees, a telepathic

signboard painted
of dour directions,
none shall heed

even as petals
pucker away
toothless mouths

nibbling
nothingness...
but there!

within a clawed
green hold
a clasped

delicate
white inch of
a cold moon

jasmine,
at my
window...

Clicking their way forward and back,
Flip-flopping into or hearts
If a girl can con money
Out of their fathers’ pockets,
who’s to say
They can’t sway politicians?
Their lips kiss pictures.

Pictures of cannabis leaves, yellow and smiling
They live until they die,
don’t live until they’re married
And if they don’t find what they want,
what else do they need
besides a crowd of fellow millennials
Caring, caring?

Caring about cannabis’ rights
and the right to carry a GBF,
their money, their frame
and, above all, pepper spray
These girls are the new
honest, hard-working man,
Their sweet scent is coming.

Sweet pea and Moonlight Path.
the top-selling fragrances at
Bath and Body Works
Their battle-cry is only
as loud as their looks
Daisy dukes and Katy Perry
whispering, “What the hell is she wearing?

She dons thin, rose-gold underwear
and she’s lazy yet keyed-up
in her own skin
Her lovers are all the same
but she blames all men.
Her wings are Pink,
they protect her from catcalls.

Line up the
Bottles on your dresser
Ordered
And measured
Have the water
Lines gone down?

So much perfume
So little time
So much bodyspray, our
Well-scented crimes.

Can I smell
Better than the
Next girl?
Should today be
"Fruited Almond Flower Quell"
Or "Coconut Island Sugar Swirl"?

What does it matter?
Just bathe in it
There's always tomorrow for
"French Hibiscus Pomegranate".

Because we're all just
Femme fatales
Or maybe our nostrils
Can no longer smell.

I heard him closing the door.
He lives in the flat next to mine.
Some seconds later I was right behind my door,
trying to catch a glimpse of him in the night.
Trying to go unnoticed,
though I wished to get his attention somehow.
If I just was a little pretty
I would run to have a small talk with him now.
He was already gone,
but there was something driving me crazy;
His perfume was sneaking into my house
through the door lock, making me dizzy.
I got on my knees just to inhale deeply,
closing my eyes and feeling a growing desire.
Hand on my chest,
and my heart exploded into fire.
I get jealous of that tiny perfume drops,
because they end up touching your skin.
Oh, if only my lips could do it,
but there's an universe in between.
Imagine being next to you,
to that perfume and your own skin smell.
You got me kind of in love,
you got me under a spell.

How can I feel this way when I don't even know the guy?
I just don't know, but I want him to be mine.

Your smile shone brighter than the stars did tonight,
and though these feelings are wrong, **** they feel right,
I'm so glad you decided, to come along,
you laugh was more beautiful, than every song,
my jacket now smells, of your perfume,
and the events of tonight, made my love bloom,
so thank you my dear, tonight was so great,
too bad this all happened, just a little too late.

Its morning,
And the clouds are filling up my lungs
But I don’t want to breathe today.
I just want to stay in bed,
let my covers smother me.

I don’t want to speak today
Ill just let my pillows feed me lies.
Its okay to give up on living but still be alive
Ill just watch the world as it keeps on spinning
But behind.

I don’t want to walk today.
I can’t handle the ground kicking me back to weak,
Ill just rest my knees on the stained mattress
that has lured me to believe all I have is
sleep.

There’s a feather in the sky,
And I watch until it falls to my feet,
Ill pick it up to brush off the sheet of dust
That has gathered on my tired, tired cheek.

Its morning again,
I don’t want the sun to rise-
Today it burns like failed tries
Ill suffocate my skin in sweet perfume,
To hide the smell of decaying, empty fume.

cigarettes
and perfume,

and minty gum,
smoking is bittersweet fun.

perfume to cover the smell.
I doubt perfume could keep me from
*HELL