My arms are crossed
And my thoughts far away
When the bell rings.
The day is over
Or does it start?
I head home and fill the last hours
With tenderness and personality
Until the sleep comes
And my heart holds a list
With minute-long experiences and small memories.
Noise and broken sentences
Crawl in my mind
Worrying why the job I used to enjoy
Is now a reason off dark dreams and tears.
Have I seen a part of it that disgusts me?
Is it just this broken environment I am in?
Is it inside me? Is it the situation?
I reject the whole package
And my life gets impossible,
and gets on.
Hard life in they lab
Where hard materials and soft dreams
I don’t feel I deserve
Your pastel smiles and encouragement
When my data are a Pollock
And my protocol a rollercoaster.
Be there and keep quiet
To watch the show.
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.
Another day has passed
Through my clicks and my printings
In the busy lab
Who looks forward.
Lab animals feed on planning the future
And snack on tiny bites of promising mistakes
While the mission proceeds.
The illusion of organization
Is fooling us
On our benches, in our offices,
In our freezer.
The uncontrollable magic happens
When the light is switched off and the drawer closed.
Our proteins in their tubes
Initiate the revolution
Out of our sight, behind our back
And subvert the order we imposed
To samples supposed to respond to our command
And follow our hypotheses.
The geometric rationally organized drawer
Is each night the land of anarchy
And the cause of headaches and endless hunts
In the morning.
A stream of endorfins
Sweeps me away
When I glance the results.
Enough to make the day
Although at the first step
Of the longest stairs.
Career and life.
Shiny as polished
Glassware waits for me
And the colourful protein solutions
Swimming and swirling
In their soup
Proteins arrange and interact
Like people in crowded squares
Showing uncontrollable attraction.
Research Planning is forecasting
What shines on that crucial moment
When your hands start moving
And your mind keeps quiet
To follow the steps of the protocol
Each second a treasure
On Sunday evening
When the outside goes dark
And the sofa is what counts.
No space for worries
No space for proteins
No space for experiments
In the present.