HAPTIC POEM

Haptic. You don’t lack it. Just stack it. Black it out, matte it out. You don’t gotta shout— just pride. Glide through life with this verbal slip and slide. No need to Freudian slip with Freudian whips.

I got the cream and the cheese. I got the breeze on my side and the wheeze. I got the keys like JAY. And like ‘yonce all I do is slay.

To slay and pray is better to hack and back track yourself.

HAPTIC INDUSTRIES >

HAPTIC INDUSTRIES >