One sip and I was gone-
hidden in a misty haze of strange smells: 
all that cologne doesn’t agree with my nose;
in an embrace of awkward touches delivered by your fingers-
I’m not sure if they even want to.

Two swallows, and I’m hidden in your skin, in your hair
and I’m the blood that flows through your veins
along with the rest of that vodka you downed when you thought
I wasn’t looking.

Three gulps, and you buy me everything in the world and offer
to buy me as well- one night, that’s all you’d need.
Stars dot the sky and I’m the brightest in that darkness
that you call your world simply because
I said yes.

Four shots, and I’m in your room, in between musty sheets-
barely white, barely yellow and you slide in beside me
and your hand goes straight between my

Five bottles, and I was gone.

—  the product of alcohol

I worry that, especially as the Millennium edges nearer, pseudoscience and superstition will seem year by year more tempting, the siren song of unreason more sonorous and attractive. Where have we heard it before? Whenever our ethnic or national prejudices are aroused, in times of scarcity, during challenges to national self-esteem or nerve, when we agonize about our diminished cosmic place and purpose, or when fanaticism is bubbling up around us - then, habits of thought familiar from ages past reach for the controls. The candle flame gutters. Its little pool of light trembles. Darkness gathers. The demons begin to stir.
Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark

Source: What if it was true? by The Bouletcorp (Follow + Like + Subscribe)