Brief Commercial Break - Hayao

Kaneki?

Kaneki, hi.

You never got yours huh?

You did. 

You got a painting. 

You also got a playlist.

You got me to learn the piano. 

You don't know. 

But that's okay. 

You know everything else. 

Funny enough, I might actually be ending this.

Ending it. And ending it. 

Weirdly its like sending you a letter. 

You are at war and I am a pen pal giving you updates. 

I never know if my letter will go 

I never know if my letter will be received 

I never know if my letter is in the hands of  friend. 

Because if all I ever tell you is the beauty of the masochistic peril left behind

And all I get from you is a sign of life 

Then have I truly been a human towards you?

My wailing from another room 

Impaling the letterbox 

Where is the letterbox? 

A warning sign intertwined 

Indigo socks 

And a loopy mind. 

Kaneki, insanity, as glamourous as the letterbox makes it seem, isn't all its cracked up to be. 

You read and read. 

You have read and read. 

Cesspool for meandering thoughts

Grievances and stupidity alike . 

Generally, I write to impress you because 

How else can I prove that I deserve the lashes 

I was angry that you didn't say anything at that wedding

and I don't know why its taken me that long to say. 

And for that.... apologies are sent. 

Time as currency spent. 

I miscalculated, didn't I? 

Punched in the wrong code

                                                                      Processor burning up 

                                                                      We were never, friends. 

I'm no longer part of the anything, but I'm still something you know?

I disappeared and became something they feared 

something they hated 

something they wanted 

something you shun 

something dried out and left to perish in the sun

I am an indecisive girl without a gauge 

I am a rhetoric of misunderstandings, imperfect timing and rough landings. 

They have taken it from me. 

Or perhaps I gave it away. 

I think, know that the world is a continuous loop in which 

I feel my index want to wipe your nose 

Not because I'm in convalescence 

But I cannot put into words you haven't already read. 

What do you want from me? 

I dangle my legs off the cliff you left me on

The failed lassos fraying in the wind. 

The moon mocking my patience. 

The moon mocking my poetry. 

You know the rest.