Insects

There is nothing spontaneous.
Contagious as acquaintance,
A psychoactive parasite
Of the central nervous system,
A cerebral centipede
Crimps the wires of wisdom.

Its little feet excrete
That greedy substance.
Your privacy, my privacy,
Our reluctant copulation
Are nothing more than symptoms
Of the mastermind's creation.

Parasite. Mastermind.
Mind control is his addiction,
No recess inaccessible,
No dream of ours unscripted.

The urge to infect another
With the contents of one's skull:
An experiment. A tentacle.
There is no come-down from this drug.