The wretched drude
it dresses itself in low pine
seasons blanket
nights sinister grin
the bark of the tree
the wooden panels of the houses
the Drude ensconced among the undergrowth
eyes in the air
crawling up the street twigs marching alive
the pavement smiles
gestapo lips
The wretched Drude
it lurches forward whining in a low tone
freezing surfaces
wiley holly bent out of shape
Drooping prickly leaves
beneath the serpent fearful frowns
The drude conjures seedling roots
seedlong into the settlement
an attempt at a smile
complicit ears and mouths
Those footsteps creating a one way road
away from life
up through a chimney
The cursed leaves were not oaken
they were prickly ilex
viscum album in the zyklon fogs of abaddon
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