Mind (The Gap)

Another freewrite, just written now... I'll work on this in the morning. 

My mind doesn't work nights

Gets phased by off-licence strip lights

With thousand-watt bulbs

And unforgiving staff

And my mind doesn't laugh 

Not enough these days

Doesn't spend enough time in comedy clubs

Watching half-crazed clowns

Making fart jokes and anecdotes about TV shows

I should know but don't watch

My mind doesn't have a plot

To lose

Doesn't have feet to place

In others' shoes

Or a cubicle in which to change

In fact

My mind doesn't give a shit

It doesn't need to be changed
And powdered and wiped

Doesn't need to be freed

To run riot

Doesn't need to fight

Doesn't need to have an eye

For an eye's sake

Because my mind doesn't do nights

Doesn't like this shift

This shake

Of midnight makeshift landscapes

Threatening to make it slip

Make it lose its grip

Flip too much

Make quick misjudgements

That only fit the rhythm of jerky nightbuses

Snaking down avenues

It would never use come daylight

This time of night

My mind skirts bruised surfaces 

Gets dirt in its tyres

Gravel-punctured and hurt

And creates skid-marks

On paper

And, later, they'll call this a joy-ride