****** knuckles
     From drunken stumbles
                                    That took his pie
         He had named humble
Ready to rumble
                                                                              Were the words he mumbled
                    In a fit and fumble
                                       To find his                               *mind

                                                                                                                                                   More than buzzed
He had become bumbled
                                                                             Just one more shot
Until he
stum    bled
                                   Out the doorway c r u m b l e d

Few ones in his pocket crumpled
      Left from cans funneled
                             I   mpairing cortexes pre                     frontaled
                                                                                                                 Visiontunneled and memory black
He laid down in the street
                                                                            *For an eternity of nap