I think this is 20"x46", Acrylic on canvas, a gift for my girlfriend's 19th birthday ( :  xox

30"x30" acrylic on canvas by Chelsea Papps (me) :D un-named, I don't know what to call it..

done at six

My friends died today. I miss them terribly. They were a pair, and almost identical, but i could always tell. I lost them, which happened too often. I'd always find them hidden in the oddest of places. The little metal round nooks of my desk, in the folds of day-old clothing, one time i found them in my eyebrow! They were very tiny, so it wasn't ever difficult to lose them. But when i did find them, they had magnificent stories! Well they were quite ordinary stories, but from their meek perspective, even the chubby dust bunnies can be hazardous. Jeremy told me this one time that he watched Cecilia fell asleep on the newspaper funny pages. To someone so small, the pages are really soft! It makes me jealous that I can't be so tiny as to... but then the fate that they met... But Jeremy was telling me a story, and i was thinking it, and then not, but he said that she had layed her face on the funnies, and the colour sticked! She had a blue face the entire day. She said that she could have taken it off right away by flying around. Their sweat pushes out bad stuff. It's why they were always so pure. They went to visit my fishie the other day. His name is Hawk Megatron Bunnies. He has the sharpest eyes, but the softest tail. His scals are shiny like a metal rainbow in the light of the setting sun. Jeremy is a poet. He told me that, and he wrote it down too. Too small for my bulbous eyes to read, but i guess not small enough for a magnifying glass. They were in my microwave. In my cobbed corn in the fridge actually. But my  big friend who wanted  to eat the corn didn't know. She couldn't see my two little friends. Jeremy was who i heard first. his scream was an eerie persistent whistle, and then Cecilia chimed in with a sound like a screech from something sharp scraping across a bell. The noise broke my heart before I even understood that it was them. But it's okay though, they were old; way past their years. My mom says imaginary fairy friends can't survive past my sixth birthday, and I'm now 20...

Un-spirited

this little poem is flawed because I'm too lazy to work with it at the moment, but i will update it soon :P

One of many gorgeous round things,
Rolling like a scatt'ring blast.
Swept them sideways on their sideways,
Rolling, gliding, they'd been cast.
Unpredictable,
Nervous and gullible,
Scattered, splayed,
Cast, played.
Rendezvous,
Round they view.
Little men, young boys,
Freeing their hands and
Throwing their marbles. If
Only they knew.
I play a game, game,
The game if skills.
I steer the marble, and
I may make it still.
Still still i wait for
Some boys to play while,
Stuck inside a glass bubble,
Humble.
Painful: a sentence, to aid boys in fun.
It's fun, so so fun,
With my wings stuck straight...
And my spirit stuck straight...
I have no choices outside of this game.