Bad Religion
A Poem/Essay
Inspired by Frank Ocean’s ‘Bad Religion’
They say it’s bad religion to beg on your knees until there are red marks and bruises left from praying at your feet.
My hands clasped, almost praying that you’ll stay, that you’ll get off, that you’ll still be here in the morning.
They say it’s bad religion to cry out the Lord’s name in vain, but what else can I cry when you’ve touched me deep in places I cannot describe.
You’re cyanide, taking away my oxygen, I beg for air and reach the surface but you push and pull me down and burst me into flames.
They say it’s bad religion to join a cult that idealises men who could never treat you the way you are meant to be treated.
But when all my adoration, affection and admiration turns into the obsession that is your attention, I crumble down and find myself sunken into the soul of the Earth.
They say it’s bad religion to drink up all the wine,
Your wine is intoxicating, taking away every memory and feeling of hurt and betrayal, how can I put down that glass?
They say bad religion is unrequited love,
unfinished business,
incompletely almost and utterly empty.
Bad religion takes place as soon as you moan my name,
as soon as you touch my body and every forbidden region that comes before it.
Bad religion is when your lips salvage my neck when we’re in the back of a taxi,
after a long night searching for love and warmth amongst a sweaty dance floor.
Bad religion is when you take me home, to our temple, our church and our bed,
our very own place of worship.
And bad religion is when I believe every lie you tell,
after all, you are a God, a fallen angel,
Lucifer even.
Despite whatever lies and stories you tell,
my bad religion is us.
