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Permanent Marker seeds. Just the name hits different, doesn’t it? Like something you’d scrawl on a bathroom stall in high school—bold, unapologetic, probably misspelled. But this isn’t about graffiti. This is about weed. Loud, sticky, brain-bending weed that smells like someone spilled diesel in a candy shop and then lit a match.
I got my hands on these seeds through a friend of a friend—one of those guys who always has a hoodie on and never makes eye contact. Said they were “next-level.” I didn’t believe him. I do now.
These are feminized seeds, by the way. Which means you’re not wasting time with useless males unless you’re breeding, which—let’s be honest—most of us aren’t. We’re growing for the smoke. For the hit. For that moment when you exhale and forget what you were mad about. Or maybe remember it more clearly. Depends on the batch.
The lineage? It’s a Frankenstein’s monster of flavor and punch. Biscotti x Jealousy x Sherb Bx. Yeah. That’s a mouthful. But it translates to this: gassy, creamy, with a weirdly sweet funk that sticks to your tongue like peanut butter. You open a jar and people across the room start sniffing the air like bloodhounds. It’s not subtle. It doesn’t want to be.
Growing it? Not for the lazy. These plants get thick—like, jungle-thick. You’ll need to top them, train them, maybe even apologize to them when you forget to water for two days straight. But they forgive. Mostly. Yields are solid if you treat them right. Indoors or out, they’ll push through. Just don’t half-ass it. They know.
And the high? Jesus. It creeps. First you’re giggling at nothing, then you’re staring at your hand like it’s a foreign object. But it’s not just heady. There’s a body melt that sneaks up behind you and pulls the plug. Couch-lock? Maybe. Depends on your tolerance. But even seasoned smokers get caught off guard. I’ve seen it happen. Grown men, slumped like wet laundry.
Medical folks say it’s good for stress, anxiety, appetite. Sure. But let’s be real—people are smoking this because it slaps. Because it makes music sound better and food taste like it was cooked by angels. Because it turns a Tuesday night into something worth remembering. Or forgetting. Again, depends.
Would I recommend it? Yeah. If you’re ready. If you’ve got the patience to grow it and the lungs to handle it. This isn’t beginner weed. This is varsity-level, late-night, stare-at-the-ceiling weed. Permanent Marker doesn’t play nice. But damn, it plays loud.
And that’s kind of the point, right?