December 02, 2025: A collection of poems about the Science and Engineering Offices
300
Not much changes
when the day ends
and the lights go out
on the shop floor.
The air is fresher
and the mind is less busy,
and the man-made waterfall rushes loud
where the sounds of numbers were before
The voices of the people are brighter
as they step out
into the sunshine,
but in the phantom room,
imprinted on them long after they leave,
the whiteboards may be empty,
but the lights are still on.
419
What makes insight feel profound? Is it its novelty?
When everything feels self-same,
repackaged,
have you stopped being kind?
No. After the sparks have leapt through the air, gently struck the ground, and slowly extinguished,
one by one,
as if they were never there,
you have carried on.
518
I can't wait to never see you again
and replace you with someone the same in every way,
modestly-furnished gallbladder
which has no duodenum
and which must instead be entombed underground like nuclear waste.
736
There is another
who looks like you,
sounds like you,
and sometimes even talks like you,
but she is not you.
I see her in the halls,
in the classrooms,
at the game,
and halfway across the world,
but she cannot fool me.
You come to life as you enter the room
and die as you go.