Fire and Ice

The slow chill of the night sky

sinks its teeth beneath my skin

and refuses to let go.

The spark of the cigarette

marks the only iota of heat tonight,

unless you count the blistering feel

of ideas pulsing through my veins

So many thoughts warring,

my mind in a state of civil unrest.

But the slow chill of the night sky

soothes my burns,

the cool salve of escape from

my own head.