My nightmares consists of tangled wishes
of Triple helicle threads,
similar to ones Ramachandran and Kartha witnessed,
those looping nylon braids tug at my bleeding head,
like old telephone wires they wrap around my fingers, but they feel as heavy as chains,
as beautiful as knitted wool, I wonder if I really want to escape.

I lock myself in compartments as small as a cell (eukaryotic cell = 10-20 um)
There, people dissect my little home, in search
Robert hooke(1665), Schleiden(1838), Schwann(1839) and Rudolf (1855)
they were all once my friends,
before they could not keep
the secrets of my livelihood
that I naively trusted with them

but I despise the most, Robert Brown
he touched me , soothingly
So I let him inside my layers of protection
(glycocalyx, cell wall , cell membrane)
so he could discover my core
my heart , 1831
that is when , for the first time
I realised, humans only know to exploit love
they exploit life, searching for it's reason,
for it's cause
they believe in superior beings to console themselves
that in a relative world
they are...