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.