indeed it is

 indeed it is 

there is a grime that is so pernicious that it enfolds the growing child

until that child fades in a bowed man’s empty eyes and

the child is lost to a greyness that is so enveloping that 

life itself takes upon it an inevitability that 

nothing will ever change again in the labyrinthine whittle 

of an industrial scaled demise where time’s life is hewn in grit

stoicism stands forlorn upon the riveted carapace of a 

scream that reaches to the end of the universe 

for the realisation is that death’s time has come to stay

and what else is there to say is all one can say to a death mask’s hollow eyes