|© 2011 Amber Clé|
The kitchen's sink.Poetry is the language of monsters,The kitchen's sink. by sm26
nobody sane can see beauty in perfect destruction.
We are millions, but not all of us have been to the school of vanity,
of poverty, of compulsive crying.
I know of compulsive crying.
There are traffic lights on all of life's crossroads
and terrifying accidents that cause the distracted to stop;
there are pieces of glass as big as the feet they cut.
Inside the boardwalk there are blocks of stone happier
than the whole of the world on a silent night.
There are sounds that split me in half, half sleep;
half pain. I have prisons on my wrists, in all the reds.
I have dirty dishes to my neck and left-overs over it,
there are millions of flies that wander inside my eyes;
dreams I regret to share. I don't want to fall asleep.
I don't want to fall asleep in this town.
They sing to me words that I've recited by memory
in extraordinary greetings to beggars with ears covered.
I've got golden coins that I scatter with the pockets' suicide.
I have gold that makes
I'm Amber. I live in the Netherlands, but I don't consider myself to be Dutch. I'm a photographer, sometimes. I love music, books, photography, drawing, colors, laughing, crazy stuff and just life in general.
Feel free to message me with whatever random stuff you wanna say