Flooding
	Beat the door
			Beat the floor
					Beat the drawer
			Heat
	Sideway
			Driveway
					Runaway
			Night
	Silence
			and Drowning.

	  When you cannot control yourself,
	 Someone is controling you.
	But
	 Doesn't that mean,
	  You are controling someone else?

A girl sets her stop watch to zero.
	A boy sets his alarm clock to tomorrow.
A dog sets her bones to memory,
	A cat sets her mat to history.
A chair sets itself to be sat on,
	A lamp sets itself to be turned on.
A book sets itself on fire,
	A pen sets itself to retire.
Why is life so stiff and yesterday?
	Because the hero is set to last century?
		Or we are set to contrary?

	A warm sweater,
		Attached to an unsigned letter,
			For the odorous touch,
				Blown from the latter.
	The sweater unfolds,
		To a room full of chatter,
			For an elusive step,
				The wool is about to scatter.
	Someone is calling,
		To take the sweater,
			But the mind, is always faster.

No. 7
Now passed one man,
	Now two,
		To the right side,
			A marvelous cross,
				No. 9!
					The header!
					Oh!
...					
The goalkeeper is still stuck in traffic,
	He can be there any minute now.

The stage is taken down,
	No more lighting,
		No more sound.
The dancer continues,
	Her dress spinning in the air,
		Revolving around her loose hair.
The stage is now in pieces,
	No more audience,
		No more grounds.
But she stays in the air,
	Even for no one there is to share.

Cheese melts from your left to right,
	Lips in between two soft bites.
	Drop a butterfly,
		Swamped in the mire,
			Unable to fly.
	Pull your strings down,
		And tie your lips tight.
Cheese melts from your up to right,
	Let it drip like a bud at night.
	Take away the butterfly,
		And mire yourself with no end in sight.

She looks around the boutique store,
	Nothing but shelves of salesman by the door.
	One steps up and ask her what she's here for,
	What for?
	To buy things to put on the floor!
But she looks around once more,
	And finds nothing but men's corps.
	But there're already four on her floor,
	What is there left to explore?
And she looks around once more,
	Oh, men are such a bore.

Look at the front,
	A dull-shaped font.
Peek at the back,
	A matte black stack.
Seek at the left,
	A pair of hands, deft.
Hook at the right,
	A tiny bit of white.
What is it?
	It is who,
		Lies in the illusions of light.

One asked the other,
	Where they were going.
The other answered,
	Wherever came to them.
One promptly put on his coat,
	Putting away his jacket.
The other laughed,
	Like a fired rocket.
	Grab that coral fish,
		If you will,
			The place is dry and chill.