I pour the blood
from my heart
This ink
This lead
These pixels
Resurrected in
the empty church
of my life
Briefly seen,
my life imagined
as I once saw it
Fleeting
the feelings
of my flesh,
the senses of
my being
I kneel
in the empty, fragrant
darkness
The small wooden window
that leads to where I toss my sins
like wedding rice
never opens
I say them
all the same
They pile
like decaying petals
at my feet
multi-hued
multi-faceted
radiant with putrescence
They smell of illicit love
drunken torture
anger and loneliness
rage and despair
I press them to my heart
to stop the bleeding
absolving myself
resolving never to do
these things again
And so the risen sun
forgives me
But I have chosen death.
Beyond Panic 