On the Theory of Control

I want to rule the world.

Small drops in my hand,

Winding window panes,

The smoothness on my face.

Can I absorb the pain I want?

Perfection:

A subtle tragedy.

So I'm screaming and slanting,

Pure as a flowing river.

See the god of enlightenment,

the god of water and the sea.

And when you recover

(small size, small size)

I will be there.