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.
...