The Eternal Watcher

I met a vapist from an antique land,

Who said—“Two nipples and a thick ass cooter

Stand before me. . . . Near them, on the ground,

Half sunk a shattered dab pen lies, whose pieces,

And wrinkled coils, and delicious nectar juice,

Tell that its vendor sold to underage kids

Who yet survives, making bank on metal tubes,

The hand that vaped it, and the lungs that wheezed;

And on the side, these words appear:

My name is Lug, Simp of Simps;

Look on my Puff, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains. Round the vapour

Of that colossal Hit, gasping for air

The lone and level parking lot stretches far away.”