Last days of a street preacher
He died in a nursing home in North Carolina, blind and alone. All his charisma, all his strength and aggression were drained away and he was just an old man dying, sapped and withered at the end. He was toothless from the time a motorcycle gang stomped his face. He was scarred from the stabbings, the shootings, and all the times when “heckling” meant more than words. He was still covered in the splotchy freckles that seemed to grow stronger as he faded, but his hair was white now, and wispy. He was still talking of God, still the street preacher as he passed away. He was still as sane as he ever was, or as crazy, if you want to see it that way, and he was still talking about God when they put him in the nursing home and left him there alone.