The big Windows let the sun in
And give perspective to my efforts
In the lab.
What seems massive and crucial,
Might be tomorrow forgotten.
Knee deep in my days,
I find comfort in a perfect plan
And lots of clean glassware.
The big Windows let the sun in
And give perspective to my efforts
In the lab.
What seems massive and crucial,
Might be tomorrow forgotten.
Knee deep in my days,
I find comfort in a perfect plan
And lots of clean glassware.
Numbers and colours
Fight each other on my slide.
Voices get silent
And bulletpoints get longer
Worth words telling a story
That built in the lab.
Glass and plastic have cuddled
Liquids of value
And proteins of temperament.
Your body whispers
A break is needed.
Reluctant and fearful
You move your body
while your mind conputes
and forecasts experimental results.
The coffee is warm
Yet fades quickly
In the run to a career.
Love is green
And grows unattended
Between your pinky toes.
Soft and flexible
You do not notice it
Still enjoy its silent support.
Years have passed
Studies have been completed,
Or only new?
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.
It has a warm price
The recognition of your work by a friend.
Work talks stay at work
And the focus is down to that stained bench
That stores your weapons and your solutions.
Everyday leads me on a treasure hunt
With hints hidden below a coffee cup
And inside an orange.
I zigzag absent-minded while other proceed
Bloody on their metallic rigid tracks.
Resting at last, with my constellation
of secret places And my hands full
And sweaty.
I know you are connected to my heart
Even miles from here
And on another country.
Surrounded by factories,
You can feel my call,
When the routine gets boring
And the heart heavy.
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.
Numbers in the table,
Like kids holding hands in a line,
Show me the direction
While tickling my brain
In this hide-and-seek game.
The pull and magic of the hidden trend
Make me a solo artist
Behind the curtain of an unapologetic  stage.
My lips cannot pronounce
The impact of these numbers
But only imagine it and suggest it
With metaphors and little confidence.
Numbers talk to me
And they swirl into a portray of our future
That hardly graphics can describe.