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Anya Mar 25
"It's all your fault" The Leaf Blower complains
"Well, now you've gone and done it" the Rake, my supposed friend admonishes me
My head is buzzing
Says the Leaf Blower, "Always favoring him over me"

Ms. Leaf Blower and I have never gotten along,
Me, because of my seeming inability to properly use her, and the irritation when my dad could and asked me to hold the wire for him
Her, because of my, from a very young age, obvious favoritism towards Mr. Rake, who used to be my best friend until he passed away and my family disposed of his plastic remains

His predecessor, Rake junior, is far sharper than his old man
But rather than make him a better rake this simply adds to his narcissism
Unfortunately, this increases his attraction as well and each time he's swept about it's not just the leaves that are unearthed
Despite this obvious flaw in his being overly sharp, he sees it fit to admonish me for breaking Ms. Leaf Blower
Don't think I can't see the two of you flirting out there!

But indeed I did,
Break her that is, clearly none of the wires were pulled out
yet, she refuses to work

So now,
I'm left with a sullen rake
And a thousand-
Scratch that,
A seemingly never ending yard full of leaves
To clarify I used to really like a plastic rake but it broke and was thrown away. We also had a leaf blower but I could never properly use it. We later bought a metal rake which was overly sharp and has the tenancy of getting caught in the grass. Years later I was asked to blow the leaves but I managed to break the blower in five minutes so I resorted to the infuriating rake.
Zero Nine Mar 2017
It's when the morning gray
bleeds into my eyes through blinds
that the night concedes
to day, officially
Under the bare cover
through dead trees, slice power lines,
growing, connecting
meats virtually
It's with the rising steam
from porcelain go all dreams
Coffee will run through you
fast as the day
When the light is on,
we're finally done
Words will not come
Words will not come
...
Yael Zivan Oct 2014
He sits in his car in a cloud of smoke

His tears turn milky and there's a crack in his voice,

He texts his friend he's too broken to talk,

But she was once broken too and knows how it feels

She wants all the world to forever be healed

He holds a torch and burns hard into soft, Makes the brittle glass melt,

Like he breaks girls hearts

But a broken heart cuts more than any other

with blood stained betrayal, and neglect and no father

He finally wants the friends to know

that he knows what he's done. He's unsure where to go

He knows that he's hurt her but she grew back and moved on

without the pain in her soul or a frown but a new song

He wants to be whole, he wants deserve his friends

He scorns those who have loved him.

Because he doesn't understand

what can they possibly see that is worth loving?

In his battered broken eyes he wishes words would wish him well

Instead of flaming images of all the trauma he's had to endure

Like the torch he holds in his hand he tries to control the pain and make it melt the broken brittle pieces of his shattered broken self.

— The End —