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

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;