The Road March of the Mind

Grunts are good. Parts of the world are bad.

A Uniform can change things.

What I signed up for.

It comes with a price and perpetual penance.

Extreme heat. Extreme cold.

Crotch rot and frostbite.

Deprived of sleep to the point of delirium.

March. Move. Keep moving. Move.

Don’t fall behind.

Everyone needs you. Press on.

Dig in. Spread out.

Stay alert. Stay awake.

Dammit. What did I tell you? Get straight. Quick.

Sleep in mud and rain.

Sleep in blinding heat.

Sleep in shit and filth.

Sleep when you can get it.

Quick. Base of fire! 

Move left! They will cover.

Run. Run. Run.

So quick. So sudden. Full auto at six feet.

Messes the man. Messes the mind.

Keep moving. Faster. We got em.

Pull the pin. Count to three. Through the window.

Face is coated with dust. Sweat can clean.

What a mess. 

Up the stairs. NOW. MOVE!

Collapse for a moment.

Water. Cigarette. Eyes wide shut.

Reload. Repeat.

Started so young.

Now so old.

A year to go.

It’s all behind.

But it’s all ahead.

Didn’t know.

Many years later beasts emerge.

The wild untamed tigers of thought.

They hunt. Remorselessly. 

Emerging from dark lairs for the evening repast of serenity and sanity.

And sometimes, the day.

Time contracts the body and the mind.

Just the basics.

Hands get wrinkled and weak.

Eyes cloud in constant dark thought even in the brightest of days.

A dark thought.

I can kill the tiger.

Silence the screams of the soul.

I can stifle life to gain peace from the past.

I can not.

I’m a grunt. 

The others may need me.

Now old. Then young. They are still part of me.

Suck it up. 

The road march of the mind.