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