"...some wretch of a tree, bruting up from the neon swamp at the bottom of all, burned and battered back in its rise but breaching ever on, its branches a bastard’s panoply of radioactive light and dripping sick drupes of cadmium red, galena blue, all gorging up and out into the clemence of a pervert sky."
The sort of prose I'm always seeking. A self-contained, but not continent, prism of disaster. Read it! Read it!!