Modern Day Siddartha.

He just sat there in the rain, not feeling any pain, like a modern day Siddartha. Suffering thru the numbness of a caracturized reality, once upon a time laden with warmth and affection...now, cold and vacant he stares into the obscure mist with a needle in his arm. Gone. To gone to feel, to breathe...the pain of consciousness too much for him to bear...needing nothing, wanting even less...Nirvana. Nothingness. A needle, a syringe and tourquinet...Buddha, Jesus, and the Devil.