cruel bugle

Why does the bugle blow in this age?

When the sirens dance red and blue?

And shuddering electricity spits out music.

cuz I hold the fuckin bugle.

Its animal roughness in my hand.

I wait to be saved.

Like Ivanhoe caught goin down shit creek without a paddle.

They told me to blow it .

As loud as I friggin could.

So I am .

Blowing on the fuckin thing so hard my lungs are bursting.

But there is no one.

The jungle I live in, green tongues licking at me.

Waiting to eat me.

All that’s left is the bugle.

It sways and hiccups. It beats and bangs

And smacks and duds, stabs and thuds.

But they roll me in their wet folds.

They curl around my eyeballs,

My jaws and teeth bite down on their fuckin ignorance.

Green blood mixes with red.

Red and green.

My flag of death,

sickly black wet death.