My eyes are focused on the clear air between me and the baseball field. Like I've closed my eyes. There is no love over there, the cradle of civilization. Expecting to die during every patrol. Preparing my mind for the end of my life. I can't sit here and enjoy this game. I am not able to enjoy the people with me because I killed myself in Iraq. My sanity is dehydrated and buried in the sand, waiting to be excavated, but I can't do it. I scream in my Love's face. She's terrified. I charge to my car to get home. If I had purer more refined oil in my car I could get to my gun, in my home, in my closet, faster. My world gets darker the closer I approach. I scurry to my room I scurry to my closet. I grip the barrel and place it hurriedly in the center of my face and I slam on the trigger. The shot blasts through my teeth and massacres my stem. I killed myself. I am dead. Finally.