Unclean

In times past lepers had to peel a bell and cry, "unclean, unclean," as they moved among the unsuspecting throng of people inhabiting medieval citadels. They were tainted beyond saving, they were cursed. I wonder what terrible things they did to draw such retribution upon themselves.

It's was a sickness you say, nothing more than a sickness. Those people were not cursed...just infected.

Well, cursed or infected, it matters little, because I am afflicted just like they were.

I walk the streets as those miserable souls did except I wear a Savil Row suit where they wore filth encrusted rags. They jingled their tiny bells...all that jingles when I walk is the coin in my pocket. They were horribly disfigured, but those who gaze upon my face feel nothing but envy.

All around me city workers strut their stuff, feeling invincible, deluding themselves that nothing can touch them. The arrogance of them. They crush people’s dreams...make money from disaster....rise high on an ocean of shit. People...they're all cursed, infected, like it or not.

Yes, I'm like them in every way. I won't even try and deny it. In every way but one, I know I'm doomed.

I walk these streets knowing it’s only a matter of time before the first lesions appear on my perfect skin, before I lose the feeling in my hands, before my nose drops from my face, because like the lepers of old, I am unclean. My sin is survival. I got behind the wheel of a car, pissed. My friends...my brothers... by my side. Only I made it out alive. 

Suspended sentence, said the judge, but that didn't matter. My sentence wasn't suspended, nor commuted, but forever dangling over me, and I deserved every second of it.

I glance sideways and see three shadows, cast on a building wall. That's the one good thing about all this, I'm never alone.

Soon guys, soon, I will be joining you soon.