The society war, the big smoke, escaping from the clouds, trying not to choke
Weekend tonic being ideal change spent
especially scavenging for a reality shapeless yet bent
Thoughts gather sense after the final savour of wine, pleasance in the air with everything dazed and fine
A sudden moment of immortal prismed bliss, an impression of Nirvana opening with a glance yet closing with a kiss
Pierced by that alluring cosmic sky, smokeless, yet still born from routine, not knowing how to die