Lethal Sanctuary

Whatever happens in your life, you must always go to church,

They tell me.

Whatever happens in your life, you must keep dancing,

I tell myself.

These devout sheep flock to the chanting voices at the gates of heaven,

Yet I hear nothing but the monotonous humming of the radiator room at the back of the church.

Whatever happens in my life, the manipulative angels will pull me back,

Like an anchor holding a boat to the mute ocean floor,

Preventing it from sailing the howling blue waters.

Whatever happens in my life, I will dance because it is my religion

The blaring radiator in the dusty corner of the church is subtle,

But it is the only thing that fills my ears.

I am surrounded by disciple dancers.

They worship the floor we leap on.

The repetitive choruses that control the dances are what they live for;

They believe they need their God to prove themselves to the world.

I am the heretic, always shamed by my lack of piety.

And yet the echoing thuds that revive the dances are what I live for;

For I have not yet learned the new confines of atheism,

And am not brave enough to try.

The yellowing pages of the holy book dictate my life.

The priest’s empty words stop me from sinning.

My body twitches against the stone cold pew,

Longing to interrupt the sermon and sprint into the harsh, cool air of freedom.

The holy book of dance is the only way of life I know,

Maybe one day I will be able to force it closed and leave this indoctrinated congregation.

But for now I am addicted to suffering,

For the church is an expert in captivation.