The tramp trembled to look through light
a fast fight with the eyes
against the now nebulous night
filling white wounds like flies.

And the noise! It just kept coming
a deep drumming down beat
to hide the sense of succumbing
in a sweet thrumming treat
ears decisively devour
till it sours and spoils
into something dark and dower
in late hours tired toil.

“Could it be that damn devils drink?”
the tramp thinks through the shakes
light and sound beating him to brink
both synced to bend and break.