kill the memory i can't turn around with hearing you; you, and your distorted raspy voice (a whisper from you poisoned my ears) and now i feel the urge to erase any trace of you; any trace of the things you did, the words you said. i'm scratching at my neck and wrists thinking, maybe i can bleed you out, maybe the visions of you can disappear finally. i've woken up screaming, seeing you; you, and your maimed body. oh, how i distinctly recall the taste of your tears, the smell of your blood, and the lovely way you screamed in horror as i raised the axe higher. as i look at your decapitated form, i wince at the memory of you. i stroked the hair on your head that very moment, rotting so lovely on my shelf. but now i guess i should wash away any trace of your memory. guess i should wash away any trace of your blood.