Burning Ice

The night gives me a quietness. I hear other sounds, but the night overcomes the chatter behind it. I need your peace, your stillness to saturate my soul. My tears stir the deep esophageal clog; my choking reflex spits you out. I can't consume the expired truth that rings through the hall of justice, because the writings are emblazoned on the city walls. Sirens deafen the ear, eyes swelling in all the acrid smoke from the constant pulls of the gun. Where's my city? Lost angels encircling a maddening fire, a zoot suiter youth, perhaps declothed, to a new survival. Elements of hate and a sorrowing pain that break the strongest of hearts. I weep in youthful innocence, to capture back the humanity of my lost people.