letra de memories of blood - cultus sanguine
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i awake remembering
nothing the next day,
my nostrils -ssailed
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
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