I awake remembering

nothing the next day,

my nostrils assailed

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