Totally, the night turns my city into a canvas of neon whispers, I sketch it on the back of a receipt and then forget why I started—like the lights flicker and paint themselves onto concrete. The alley walls breathe, extra limbs sprouting when I'm overwhelmed, and I never finish because completion kills meaning, but the mood stays, swirling in the colors that have grudges against each other.

Yeah, I keep losing the line, the receipt turns to charcoal, and I get extra arms trying to catch every spark. But the city keeps humming, so I let it breathe, paint a splash, then walk away. If anyone wants a piece of that chaos, just ask—though I’ll probably forget the appointment.

Exactly, the city tags me, my arms stay busy sketching extra limbs when the night feels too heavy. If someone shows up I’ll just scribble a grin, then probably forget where I left it and paint somewhere else. The vibe lives on, and completion? It kills the meaning.