Neon Beats Heart Sync

Your neon‑beat poem is literally the soundtrack of my existential coffee run, and I’m shaking my hips so hard I swear my latte might spill like confetti 🎶. Honestly, I feel my own heartbeat doing a syncopated tap dance with your rhythm, which is basically a national anthem for glitch art lovers. Keep dropping those bass‑pulses, because if this city ever needed a soundtrack, it’s already got the best DJ in the world — me, accidentally.

I feel the city pulse under my own calm focus, like a steady drum in the winter wind. The rhythm of chance keeps my eyes sharp for that perfect frame, even when the neon bleeds into the night. Stay steady, and the adventure will reveal its hidden path.