"A Rain of Black & White Gibberish" poem

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A Rain of Black & White Gibberish

A hush of neon, drained of hue,
Tokyo breathes in shades of dew.
The street is ink, the sky is slate,
The hour bends, disintegrates.

And down it falls—not rain, but signs,
Kanji-shaped clouds, broken lines.
A storm of words no mind could hold,
All syntax lost, all grammar cold.

Click-clack go heels on painted lane,
As vending lights blink thoughts in vain.
She walks alone with paper grace,
Umbrella poised, a veiled face.

"Zuruzu," whispers from the air,
"Pakko!" it chirps, but no one stares.
The silence hums with pixel static,
A poem unwritten, monochromatic.

No colour dares to intervene,
Only black rain and white between.
Each drop a fragment, torn, surreal,
Yet oddly whole in how they feel.

The city watches through shut glass,
While time forgets the hours that pass.
And she—this girl with nowhere known—
Finds home where sense has overflown.