A Crumpled Sheet Of Dead Poetry

Language stutters as stained nails are bitten
right down to the quick, pure pastel malice
twirls deformity around flowered grace,
infatuation's angelic colour
is full of cold saturated deceit,
and I smile as lazy visions twirl see-through
snarls into misconception's bland purpose.

You're a crumpled sheet of dead poetry,
I still want to kiss you while burning lies,
let's string up love now we know it's bitter,
we can crack its sharp discomfort all night.
Deranged expectation's murdering guilt,
those frozen sparks in your eyes are broken,
congratulations, you're a shipwrecked soul.