The plumes of smoke and clouds are monochrome, watching the black factories spit out poison, the pipes go into the glowing, greasy ocean, the chalky-white bones float like toy-ships lost in motion, in each other's arms, hopeless and starving.
The nameless hordes of dirty-faced orphans are chasing a skinny dead-looking rat, with sticks and stones, grunts and shouts, they're hungry, it swims away into the muck and oily sludge. Mouths agape, a siren sounds, and back into the tunnels they go, the tunnels in which they sleep.
A government sniper watches through the chain-length fence and razor wire, a crisp, clean uniform, black and white, a transport truck's engine screams, the concrete cooking the bare feet of the beggars, the meat tenderizing, the broken shale along the corroded, coal-colored beach, the food for mercy, the morsels for an end to sickness, the sad cycle of life and death for dreams.
In the pits they are naked and howling, nightmarishly clawing and unrelenting lunacy, wild eyed and some have Medusa hair, like boiled goblins in the daylight, melting zombies in the acid rain. A malnourished watchman watches and a soft voice speaks, a petite, pale little girl dressed entirely in a luxurious ruby-red dress, stockings and a white bow, elegant rings on her tiny fingers and fancy gold bells on her toes, eating a strawberry she cruelly laughs and says "they're so hungry". "Wouldn't you agree with me?"
The watchman gives her his lunch, and she tosses a small leg of a dog into the pit of despair, she giggles playfully, it's her favorite part, they maul each other, slobbering and snapping their rotten teeth and gnawing at one another, inhuman shrieks and animal sounds, hundreds of demonic voices speak, she looks at the watchman, he refuses the frown, he smiles gently and knowingly, knowing that on a whim, and whimsically, she can send him to the pit as well.