Stagnant Dreams of Transition

In my dreams I am pacing down endless, timeless lanes

And the brambles curl about me

And the moon drops a pallid knuckle

In my dreams I am buried by the stench of Autumn’s decadent death   

But still bludgeoned by honeysuckle

Though the nettles have boiled and hissed

In my dreams the road is soft, white, and lifeless beneath my feet like an upturned eel belly, jellied in the farmers jar  

And the thorns are crowned in mist

And the blackberries weep and pound 

Dark-hearts on a string

Deluded, they sing

And the maggots devour the sound