10-12-02 You sweat from your heart. The sun wants to turn rocks over and reveal your secrets. The air is tense, thirsty and waiting for a decision. A lizard appears, then turrets its eyes at you as if it knows something that you do not, then hurries away. You try to become the dirt as it both clings to you and rejects you. The ground never stops moving. And when the storms come, you see hell as a nicer place to be. You imagine your home, wife, kids, friends. Your friends who don't know who you are, or what you might become. Friends who lean on you because you are there. Back to back. Face to face with superiors who know you by name when you don't know when that single foreign particle might break your femur, your lung. You know that you are there because not everyone needs to feel this. You know that you are here and they are there, and every day that passes the world slips into a deeper blue. So you sit, sweating amongst the wreckage in this junkyard of bodies, hoping for an end. Any....end.