$100 tip

The buggy code of my internal workings keeps
Synced with my bad timing
That's flaw. The dead spot in between
Our ears keeps spreading

When we stand up, no one comes to ask,
"Why is this backwards?"
The alarm doesn't go off after you're awake.
And especially that feeling you get
When you meet someone who looks like you

That one hundred dollar tip,
And a town, or a family,
Without enough money to keep itself alive