But the war won't stop for the love of God

Which is worse, I wonder? The explosions all around while under fire, or the strained silence of anticipated action? The standard-issue satellite radio has not so much as snapped, crackled, or popped in days, and the mounting tension has become undeniable. I spend the idle hours in silliness, creating corny pick-up lines to lure you here. "Hey, big boy — this foxhole of mine is pretty lonely, would you care to fill it?" My thirties have imbued me with goofiness beyond measure, but the comic relief is my saving grace. How else could I cope with living a life bridled and reigned, but disappointingly unharnessed, by the labile whims of a middle-aged man? Yes, leave me to my devices, for I have many with which to occupy myself... oh smartphones, tablets, and the like, sure... but I also have a penchant for allusion, metaphor, foreshadowing, imagery, even the occasional onomatopoeia. Psssssssst... do you want to know a secret? Refusal to engage will not bring about the conflict's end. You may play the conscientious objector now, but, once upon a time, both you and I fought the war.