The Chemist in the White Coat

The laboratory was full with all sorts of sounds and smells
There are apparently millions of laboratories
Just like these up there
The Chemist in the White Coat was somehow able
To keep track of the goings-ons in every single one of them
In the large beaker on the counter was put my soul
The liquid glowed blue and smelled of jasmine
It was room temperature
The liquid did not fight its environment in any possible way
But rather blended in as part of its natural landscape

Things were quiet until the tray of testtubes appeared
The first, labeled, "Fear of Falling" was poured in the beaker
Followed soon by "Fear of Loud Noises"
Small air bubbles popped up from the new solution
As the liquid started to swirl gently
Trying to make peace with itself
The Chemist then, in furious pace
Threw in the contents of the 50 testtubes off the tray
One by one, liquids of different colours, viscosities, temperatures
Were added with labels like
"Mass Thought," "Parental Junk," and "Teachers' Ballast"
The large beaker, originally peaceful and blue
Started to bubble over, noxious gases rising from the compound
The colour no longer blue but rather turning to brown

"Endless Horniness," "Abandonment Scare," "Please Like Me"
"I Want to Break Your Neck," "I Want to Screw Your Sister"
"I Want to Screw Your Daughter," "I Want to Screw Your Girlfriend"
The empty testtubes thrown in the incinerator trash by
The Great Chemist one by one once emptied
"Greedy Greed," "Fear of What is Not Understandable," "Fear of Otherness"
The glass cylinders poured free of its contents then
Becoming instant vapors in the great infernal incinerator
And when the Chemist was done, he looked at his creation,
This brown, bubbling pungent mass of goop and the Chemist smiled
And said, "That should do it."

Now I have spent my whole life now studying this kind
Of alchemical chemistry
I have become a specialist in distillation
I am breaking down this big compound
As my solution becomes bluer and bluer
And the smell of flowers returns to the room
Where I sleep each night
Sometimes with the closet door open
And sometimes with the closet door closed
But either way with no nightlights
Like the ones I used to plug in when I was a child
And afraid of the dark
Afraid of malintentioned monsters beneath my bed
And in other crevices of the unseen room

I have gotten my Super-Ph.D in chemistry
And I am hard at work in my lab
Identifying the components of the original testtubes
One by one in this anxious solution
Just like those tenacious folks who broke down the
Code for the Human Genome did
When they painstakingly identifying the almost
Endless Strand of DNA
This is a painstaking, painful process for sure
The distilled substances don't always come off ugly
But can deceive with a lovely pink glow and a nectarine fragrance
But I've got my microscope and one of the best
Bullshit Detectors in the world
And suffice it to say, I am getting pretty good at this process.

Bluer and bluer, I am beginning to fart flowery smells
I never thought were possible
In my labcoat I remain dedicated to this process
Although I know there is no Nobel Prize or recognition
Of any of that sort in the offing
I know that this is the grand finish line
That both The Chemist and I are out for the same thing
Just like the great sphynx
Each master riddler ideally wants his riddle to be solved
Each alchemist wants someone to come along and
Pull the sword from the stone
And here I am with my splashproof goggles
and my stained white labcoat
Putting my life on the line to crack the code
To this unfinished solution