Here we go passing by

`



Coal-bright heat
pulsates a primal beat,
this light burns white
in the squalid night.

The windswept fury
in a drunken flurry,
toppled kerosene lamp
leaves the table damp.

Morning slips in sly,
waking the bleary eye;
pollen grain breezes
peddles raucous sneezes.




`

Reviews

[Wanderlust]

From this, it sounds like some wild festivities have taken place throughout the night, and I get a real sense of the rush from this, particularly from:

"pulsates a primal beat...in a drunken flurry."

Makes it sound rather primitive, without boundaries. But, morning can't be escaped, as you mention this and personify it in a way, as though the morning has intention to be sneaky. I like the word play.