propaganda...

it's science that's to blame.
not intentions or choices or actions,
not logic or emotion,
but chemistry,
stopping time as flesh reacts.
particles form symphony, and there's singing unexpectedly.
there's a hum. a buzz. and a quickening somewhere.
hard science, foreign to the oblivious artist, sets something in motion.
we're grinning puppets
further spellbound with each inhalation.
and it's involuntary, so it's that much more real.
it's ancient and human,
chemicals coursing through veins instructing bodies.
it's how we know to run or stay.
it's how we know it's undeniable.
protons are purists and cannot tell a lie.
so we can't blame the puppets or the strings or ourselves.
it's all an experiment, isn't it?
so we stir up some questionable solution.
we clink our glasses. take a sip. and smile.