Biography of chelle santos
dont take me too seriously; P
chelle santos Poems
all the pretty girls
all the pretty girls their matching bags & expensive footwear
i am nothing but words.
i am nothing but words. words - misspelled and mangled, & sentences wrongly constructed.
a page is too small a space,
a page is too small a space, for you to plead a lost case & our words, too plain & trite to aptly paint out your plight.
all about me
he'd like to know all about me, so he starts picking me apart. he scours files inside my head for blueprints, maps and charts.
'to get your writing back in sync, cut your wrists & bleed out the ink.'
to my dearest friend & evil girl, tonight we celebrate the end of the world. we'll dine on bad food & ignore the dishes,
someday when i'm older, i will know how to write, to draw pictures with my words of days that were once bright.
war of the words
he guts numbers with letters, and letters with words, conquering sentences, as the day pushes onwards.
in the library
the good little girl and the good little boy, sit side by side & arm in arm in the library. the good little girl and the good little boy,
a change in season
the summer ends not with the sweeping breeze entangled with sun, warming up your skin but with the raking cold pounding of rain on a steel roof, & the howl of the wind
the break up fairy
'i think that it is best to be, single, than part of two or three. because men are born cruel & sly,
for your 24th birthday
this year, i was going to bake you a cake. not pink whipped icing on wimpy, fluffy chiffon,
they've poured antiseptic into my head so everything that coming out of it is consumable, clean, safe & dead. anything i draw, think or write,
you are the game show host asking for my final answer. with a million at stake, i hear only beeping getting faster. cameras zoom in, as you clutch your mic & hold your breath. just before the buzzer sounds, i open my mouth & say yes.
from underneath the street lamps
it is rather hard to see,
the pin holes in the midnight sky
from where the gods laugh at me.
but this boulevard's the aisle
of the grand catherdral of stars,
where i sit in solace praying
amongst pedestrians and cars.