Memories of Blood

Cryptopsy

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
Reminiscence 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