*Dreaming of Being Dead*

Warmer than all of my body

are the pennies I hold in my hand.

I find them lain over my eyes.

blocking from sight the sunless land.

Everything is so vague in my mind.

Mists roll over the gray stones,

vapid clouds hang in the sky.

And yet I know I'm not alone.

There is a dark river beside me,

in the center of the desolation.

On it drifts a ferryman, here

to carry me from my isolation.

My poor fare grants me passage,

and I feel that I'm finally going home.

There are signs along my road,

portents and omens of things to come.