The Parasitic Scarecrow

Black crows lurk around the dark meadow, consuming the writhing larvae of the earth. The Insatiable need to devour prey, they flock over the tall stalks of the lifeless pastures that thrive on death. Like blood sucking leeches the larvae writhe, contort, and distort in shape. Darkness fills the sky as my eyes cry blood from the hemorrhaging of the inter-cranial creeping parasites that crawl into my head and tear apart the sinews that dictate my human perception. Passing through the narrow paths within the bleak labyrinthine meadow of the unseen i spy with my prying eyes the tall lifeless fellow hanging upon what was once the home of a giant oak tree but now it has met its time of death and decay by the reapers scarecrow. Oh how it hangs there in isolation weeping for the untimely death of the great oak tree, a place where the young once used to frolic freely about around the wooden giant tree. Now it is a place for creeping death, a place where unseen things go bump in the night, and where the dead are laid to rest. A graveyard for mother nature and a tomb for the farmer whom has met his inevitable doom one dark, and dreary midnight looking for his dog that relentlessly howled at the odd cloaked straw fellow at the dead of night. No one ever saw him come out of the tall reeds the very next day but everyone now heeds the warning of the mysterious straw fellow who feeds off the life of the green pastures and sows the dead souls of the living together to become apart of its dreadful, lifeless figure.....Fear the parasitic scarecrow!