The missing pieces

Every time I wake up a new piece is missing.  Sometimes it's a fingernail or a chunk of hair.  Sometimes it's a finger or an ear.  I have no idea how long I sleep.  I rarely dream.  I have no idea how many nights I've slept.  How long I've been here.  I try to keep track, but consciousness fades in and out.  When I sleep I don't want to awaken to the nightmare.  When I'm awake I don't want to sleep for fear of what will be left of me when I wake.  The pain is so constant that i sometimes forget that it's there.  Just like I've forgotten my name, or anything outside this room.