From Bachchus, with lust and intoxication

There was no music this time. Nor was there any addiction. There wasn't much smoke either. It, as was norm, dispersed above the crowd. All that prevailed was pure intoxication. This time, they weren't dancing to the noise. This time, the only noise was emanating from their cracked voices, with words unclear and sounds of moan and whine, asking for more intoxication and wine. A senseless rattle echoed through the night as the moon shied away, hiding half it's face in darkness. They looked at each other, passing on expressions, with intoxication smeared over their faces. Some smiled. Some laughed. Some hallucinated. Some spoke the truth. But, all of them disgorged the contents of their tummies, enveloping the grounds with the foetor of alcohol, potato and gastric acids. And then they all collapsed, unconscious, into the arms of Hypnos.