Chocolate grip

The noise of these data is killing me

One dot at the time,

Shooting on the blank space.

Lack of order and lack of grip

On this rushing days

Condense in chocolate abuse.

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Holidays

Your pipettes are still smoking

And your notes on scrap paper

When the holidays arrive.

A feeling of incomplete and guilt descends

While you leave the long concrete corridor.

your mind rushes

to plan and refine elegant experiments

Not to waste time

While your bikini awaits you.