Escape!

As guillotines the shutters fell
forging a spell, cast against the day.
Where a new stage emerged. Relatively not, well, rare.
but certainly indifferent to those affairs of right or wrong,
or fair or unfair.

The smoke softly levitates through spirals
deviating in disorder when reaching a curtain of white.
What a sight. Those cyclic, yet distorted, finals.
Lying in the floor, I remained staring without haste,
that white ceiling, yet morbidly in feast.

Right after, I sip two more quaffles of wine
and voluntarily I let my senses get drunk.
Welcome Prank. Where fairies and beasts embrace, amidst smoke arcs.
In a glance, I even smiled, while in the dark mist.
After all, there's more to sip in the night of the escapist.