Impecunious

 It was late, and my donation sign had just gotten wet so I had no way to beg for money. Standing in the parking lot, I had to see about twenty or forty cars pass me by. I’d been stripped down to my natural human state, and all of my accolades now meant nothing. I literally had to shower in the rain and sleep in cold alleys. My days consisted of walking five to ten miles and standing out in the cold for hours begging for what most people took for granted. I’d been crucified, humiliated, and left to hang on a wooden cross in front of an old rundown homeless shelter. Everyone looked so comfortable driving by watching me begging at crosswalks, I’d become the itch in their fragile minds on whether to be blessed of left hanging. My new evolution of formal thinking had turned into an accumulation of real human emotions and intellect. The sad thing about my state of being is that I truly was a good person, but I’d been losing at the money game of life. Many of what I now called, them, were all driving in fancy cars, drowning in their ideologies, traveling to wealthy nations, trading precious goods for cash, eating out at the finest restaurants, and even wasting the one thing that I needed the most, money. I was once a decorated congressman who gave up everything by voting to defund a senseless war that many people never even heard of. Now I’m an impecunious bum, spying on God’s greatest creation for the greater good. Walking in between two worlds  I often found myself bargaining with the God of night and the God of day. I’d come to the conclusion that a humble soul who is left with nothing really only has one thing left and that is his soul. In a quest to satisfy my flesh, my mental state is the strain of slowly being beaten with a hammer with little to no mercy. The truth is that when you become impecunious you literally are the living dead. A thorn on the crowns of the fortunate.