The Industrial Evolution.
I want the rain to wash away the grime
From this filthy living corpse.
It's dross filled pores
And a life cloaked in rust ridden slime.
Dumped grot covers me.
Exhaled from the mephitic breath
Of a thousand septic chimneys refusing to fast.
Spewing out smut
Drowning all us luckless souls in muck.
The inevitable residue of greed
Deposited by those with no belief in the End of time.
A planet of zombies
Wading through a mire of death.
Only waiting for the time
They reach the END.