The Cult of Clean
We outlawed the dark.
Then wondered why it runs the show.
Armstrong didn’t cheat cycling.
He completed it.
He was the perfect mirror
We build temples to victory
and hang purity at the door.
We say: perform, transcend
but don’t show the method.
Ancient cultures danced with their devils.
We audit ours.
They confessed in the square;
we file reports in silence.
Tragedy was once therapy.
Now it’s PR.
The shadow never left.
It just learned to code,
to invest, to run for office.
It wears white teeth and ESG badges.
Cheating isn’t the glitch.
It’s the language of a world
that demands the divine
from mortal flesh.
The mature world doesn’t punish the shadow.
It lives with it
feeds it honesty,
keeps it visible,
lets it breathe.
Because the moment we pretend
we’re clean,
the doping starts again
just subtler this time.