Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Winter – fake hibernation in the crowded cellar. Dusty spider nights frighten my starter cord and spark plug. Yet, my red plastic skin endures it all with a lipstick smile.

Early spring – feverish dreams at my prison wall. My motoric legs painfully hold back their silent, longing cries.

Spring –temper tantrums by the cellar door. My lazy owner doesn’t invite me out to an overdue vegan dinner.

Early summer – forced feeding followed by engine blocks. Appetite for tall grass long gone. But my work-shy dictator never listens.

Summer – wild mowing music on holiday mood. My cutting deck, sound abstinent. My blades, grass abstinent with high risk of dying from an overdose after the break.

Autumn – barbaric misery due to binge working till Halloween, disguised as my slavedriver, kidnaps me to the cellar. No oily nightcap before wannabe beauty sleep.