Cryptopsy – Memories of blood

I awake rememberingnothing 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 rot0 uplifting smellSomeone`s dead or at least unwell; What little is left smells impure; Who did this? I`m not sure

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