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Poem

First draft - I may tweak and tidy up once the words have floated around a bit.

Inspired by Van Gogh's Night Cafe (1888).
A painting of an all night cafe at 12:15am. Frequented by prostitutes, the drunk, the destitute and Van Gogh himself. His use of clashing colours and distorted aspect express an emotional reaction to the scene that I have tried to capture in the poem. 

Oh lamps, you subdue as much as you emblazon
This room, here to contain vulgarity 
Until new light cleanses of offence
The hour late for light, but early for darkness
A guiding light towards an internal door, moments of warmth and solace, quickly exchanged for shame and discomfort
Emitted from these walls and floors is a foulness that is both pleasure and pain to be part of
We occupy this space, with mostly closed eyes
Waiting for dawn, waiting for tomorrow or change that might occur without active involvement 
Quiet chaos plays out as one by one we slither from or to the floor
Overcome, by the most part, with a sense of belonging
Belonging bought for, what seems to be, a small price
To keep company to make it through the night

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