The Modern Man

The smoke cleared slowly, he was there. Face down..scarred..muddled..mauled..crucified. A suicide. An attempt to death, a contempt to life. Charred down by the world, he lay still – relieved and content. The end was satisfying, he was leaving behind a modern man. The window shattered open, a child was there, un-weeping .. numb .. death didn’t mean anything to it and neither did life. It had beautiful deep eyes, still without a view of the world – sound ears, without ‘a word of the world’. Underneath the nose, the face was barren. Skin between its lips, it had not mouth, no voice. And the burdened cowed down shoulders had no arms. The amputated child just lay there. . it could listen, but couldn’t say. It could see, but it couldn’t do. it could not smile but it could cry. The disfigurement was not of the body alone; it had a sound mind but a numb heart. He was the modern man, a successful man, the growing individual, the dying society.

 

As I moved away from the window, I could feel my arms melting down .. skin growing between my lips. The heart going cold, the mind taking over. I am a modern man, now..I am a modern man.

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