Unarmed guards dig through trash cans, kick kids in stomachs, pull flesh from broken arms. Too many fires light up the sky like city lights, brighter and hotter, like the sun, now hidden behind layers of bruised black and blue. Screams light up nights better than fires, not as hot but better for the blind, burning eardrums like sinking bombs from jet planes, circling broken cityscapes like bathroom drains. Broken legs drag through streets, canine jaws working alongside jaws of children, uncooked food lies in gutters dying, waiting. City streets burning, air heavy sweet decay, fog like confections and necrosis.
And when sun rises through layers of bruised black and blue, city streets are lifted from dreamlands and eyes open in cold sweat, waiting for tomorrow's nightmares.