Modern Man

It didn’t take long before he realized
the failures found in the allure of modern life
drawn into a web of more, better, anything is permissible –
he was left hollow
a sheath filled with dirt,
nothing remaining to hold him to the land.
His heart a rusty nail upon parchment,
a composite sketch
drawn to reveal the smell of fresh blood,
barely scratching the surface, he blurred the lines.

Hoping to run to lackadaisical liberty in the land of no regrets,
he shuffles along the gangway knowing he can never go back,
once settled, he opens his suitcase and it brims with scents,
inside is home.
Time machine windows reveal desire,
regrets so fresh he could reach in and take a crisp bite,
if the universe would only let him.

Isolation chamber familiar comfort,
there is safety in self-induced solitary confinement,
a wandering journey where nothing is what he hopes to find,
the ship has sailed one last time.
The darkened curve of his spirit lovers hair,
the place he knows is home, he longs to be there -
to hold his heart in suspension on long quiet nights,
keeps his toes tapping for fear that if they stop
he just might run into the streets,
his eyes and hair all asunder
tears no longer hid behind walls.

When all is said and done
the journey did nothing but chew him up through the machine of industry
and deposit him in the thick smoke stacks of the future
billowing high into the sky like any modern man,
suspended, alone in his individual balloon,
surrounded by an invisible aura keeping all others at bay.

Thought bubbles whisking in the air,
empty, void of answers, lacking prayers
the other side is no different than before,
it makes no reservations for soul searching
pulling down the dark corners, working to reveal,
it is the all, it is nothing
and still he sits alone, hoping to find home.