Stagnant Brambles

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