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Financial woes.

So money, the tormentor for those who have none of it when they need it, has become my quarry. I make piddly amounts at a day job that doesn’t appreciate my skills, and efforts to save have become far-fetched pipe dreams. So what is a deacon to do? Even the Lord can’t save me now. Even if I were a bible-bound Xian. It is difficult to see the light when the darkness of mad god greed clouds the eyes of others around you. A difficulty perpetuated by the madness of wrong moves that lie just around the corner when decision-making your own basement-borne apocalypse. It makes the throaty taste of a snub-nosed revolver that much more appealing to me. Guns don’t relieve me of my current situation, though, merely handing my life off to other less precious followers-in-footsteps. A creepy thrill comes over me when I realize just how desperate I am. With payments piling up, sometimes you can be forced to prey to those deities in the far-away, but your still stuck Here on planet hell. Living becomes another stick in the mud, Now, however, I retire from this line of thought, and allow myself to see the light. I forgive my hesitancy to be more aware of a circumstance that feels as though I am doubling back toward that great potential of nothing, and you can’t always make something from this potential nothing. Where there is a glimmer of hope might be just enough noose to strangulate the good times out of you, but the negative sight is not all there is to see. Even manure grows crops of some worth, but sometimes I wish it wasn’t just this cesspool in view. Starving? Not yet, but then again, we will see won’t we.

Thanks, khet.