baptist town

I do not like churches. But I also do not hate or fear them. I would not go to a church to feel at home. I would not hiss my hatred to a church as I walked by. I would go to ornate cathedrals to take their picture like at Sainte Chapelle. But I’d never go to a small town baptist church because they are just cramped rooms and I do not belong there because they are not a congregation of people I know.

Being an angel has not given me an inherent opinion of churches. Why does it seem like it has for everyone else?

idk texas/houston gothic

  • “reminds me of the one i love” you sing, clapping your hands in time to the ritual. the words are true, even if they aren’t your own. you remember your loved one. they said they were leaving the state, moving away to get away from the heat. you hope they got out. 
  • there is a new baptist church in town. it sits across the street from another. and another. and another. and another.
  • "sorry, there was construction,” they say to explain their lateness. you nod in understanding. road are always being closed for construction. sometimes they reopen. but if something was built, no one ever sees it.
  • “the heart of texas,” they say in hushed, reverent tones. you all look into the distance where you know, somewhere, the throbbing beating mass waits.