Violet Darling Poems

Dark settles on the walls. The street lamp blinks light,  
dies, then blinks again. A moth - stuck inside the room - 
pares its wings on the glass, falls to the windowsill,  
then does it again. My eyelids do the same. 
...

We'd drink something that'd give a good boot
Something strong

He'd tell me about Dylan T
...

I imagine a dense network of tunnels;        
malleable, hollow tubes narrowing        
then swelling - breathing a complex        
language beyond my comprehension.              
...