I awake remembering
nothing the next day,
my nostrils $$#ailed

by the stench of decay
Dreams of dismemberment,
fantasies of torture

Mopping up affords me a
reminiscense of death;
Gooey bits and pieces

are all that is left

Stench of rot: uplifting smell

Someone's dead or at least unwell;
What little is left smells impure;
Who did this? I'm not sure


No conscience interferes with
my memories of blood;

PSI energy remains
where a human once stood;
I equate its suffering with

the longevity of a ghost
Who lasts the longest
is who suffered the most