trip flare  
and they are in a singing,
soprano sea of light
my heart thumping, baritone,  
my eyes digesting this metastasizing meal  
choking on it, until  
the guy beside me opens fire,  
emptying a magazine before I flip
from safety to rock ’n roll auto  
both of us now filling the killing
fields with tracers,
whizzing shouting shadows
in this sorrowful symphony…  
the light fades
in the newly darkened pit  
the crawling ebony clad shapes
stop,
the conductor, long gone  
to another stinking stage,  
while here, the blood dries black
and I have new mournful memoirs
of  the music of madness