Broke

I awaken to my sad penniless life... Selling my very blood for food... Is that God screaming in the distance or the echoes of my solitude? My gas gauge hovers on empty... Instant oatmeal for lunch... Since I skipped breakfast I guess it's considered brunch... I count my change from the console... Always thrilled to find a dime... As I reach far between my seats I start to contemplate a crime...