There is all sorts of good advice out there about not writing in strange dialects that I can quote you page and paragraph. But hey, it’s OK to experiment. This is the beginning of a short story. Does it work for you?
Scrim ate the rest of the day’s gleanings standing by the window of his high-up.
Blue sky beyond with birds so free as Scrim and every other inside the hell was not. This morning he’d stole a pair of pigeon eggs and gulped them raw at the scene. He couldn’t be found with them on him. Later he found a crust, the whole top of a loaf of bread. What kind of fool drops that?
Rita de Heer 