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