motion sensors compensated for the walking wounded and on the front line where time was allowed elevation and the stations of the cross where observed by forward gunners, the post man strolled through first class carnage to deliver field green bandages.
dreams occasionally obstruct my breathing and believing the dreams to be real I steal back into wakefulness, but always return to the battleground back to the sounds of thunder.
I know that if I go under for the third time there'll be no elevation to sight a line on me no stations of the cross there'll be nothing left of me no cannon to the right of me,
I wonder if I'll be free then without oxygen to inflate my ego.