I sit, wait, and wonder.
Terrorists on trial now. Shift change. Condemn those fuckers to death.
I count the hours until today is over. 13 hours. 10 hours. Eight hours. Four hours. I want go home. Find a job; a job that fits me.
Will I die today in Iraq? If I did, would anyone care? I wonder what's for dinner tonight.
Should I cut my hair? I grow tired of holding this pose. I put my pen up my nose, counting the drops of sweat dripping down my back.
Sunrise. Sunset. Swiftly go the days. Deployment is glorious in Guantanamo Bay. My uniform is still.
Attention on deck! At ease and good morning. Flag call again (run inside). I wish I was fucking deaf.
Smoke a cigarette. Pack a lip. Go to chow, then the gym. Take a swig of chew spit.
Fuck you. Fuck this and fuck that. I'd fuck her.
What should we do today?! "Yo, let's drown that cat?!"
Formation. Hydration. Protein shake. EO complaint. Tons of segregation.
The beach is nice. I'll kill you if you touch my phone. Can I have a cigarette?
Take a shit and masturbate.
Maybe today I'll kill myself.
If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late.
This is what it is. The military life I live. No airborne jumps, no medals, no glory.
Sign up and make a difference. Serve your country and be really hungry. A good way to find out you're worthless and mean nothing.
Just a number with a job to do with endless hours of you learning the true meaning of duty.
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