Shaking it

It is still not clear

What makes the centrifuge tilt

And make me question my worth.

Is the centrifuge balanced? And me?

Can i fulfil simple tasks at my age?

Am i again not trusting myself at my age?

The loud noise shakes me up

And the sentences fall void.

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Meeting etiquette

Your opinion is loud in your head
And will not rest
until it is shouted to those bosses.
The setting is absorbing the sounds
And the meeting proceeds
with no hype.
All are listening and pretending,
A few decide
On the apparent democracy.
Raising your voice is not welcome
And hiding your knowledge
behind a subtle question
might be your only expression.

Dreaming floating

Taken by a day-long search
For an explanation
To the behaviour of those pet molecules
It is easy to live like in a dream.
Floating over samples
And graphic statistics,
I breath only when the picture is in focus
And has defined borders.
I try not to Forget those little questions
And wanderings
That add corners and colour harmony
To data.

Control travel

I contract my muscles
Crunching over control
Of little Excel cells and tiny data points.
The scenario they picture
Is the natural reality
Or the translation of my expectations?
With a joyful papercup of Black tea in my hand
And a backpack of numbers and theories,
I travel through unseen possibilities and questions that hide treasure doors.