With a tap here, and a tip tic there
tap tap tap, spin, and a slide.
Yet not a glace, glint, or batted eye.
Only gazes from the ones that they try to hide.
disguise.
COLD and meek.
but food to seek
the show that must go on.
What's the tipping point?
and What's the point of tipping?
Do we ever make sense?
Do we ever change?
"Perhaps the tune of my whistle to pair will impair the passers
the passers of their byes and begottens
all rotting.
Sparrow only wished for batteries.
I loved walks curated by his boombox.
(continued on next artwork)
Rest in peace my No Home Boy lol
