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Eliza Fairchild Jun 2020
Tried to break it down
various elements
this or like that
to study, to consult.

Far to know the time
to see it again
Until I found it once more.

It wasn’t my motive
in making it
that matter
but how
A sign to begin again
Eliza Fairchild Jan 2017
I want to breath in
a sweet cotton air.
Moments of ones mind
stretching forth
elegant and divine.

A piano drips like rain,
Reverberating above the soul,
while frequencies dance
across nerves full of static.

Pangs and woes,
weigh heavy upon my shoulders,
too broad and too weak,
to carry much more.

Life's burden weighs down
the branches of trees,
their fruits bruised against the ground
turn sour by the first rain.
One must tend to lifes terms

Contracts laid down in cosmic fibers,
Guides the flow of time.
If time could be streatched,
The structure of the universe
would appear like a roadmap,
Expanding and contracting,
Like the heartbeat of time


Odd feelings about an odd set of people, emotions and experiences.
Eliza Fairchild Nov 2016
Are we acting within the laws of Thermodynamics?
Is this why the forests are felled
and the earth scoured for its ore?
We can not act randomly against the stochastic forces of nature.

Our agency has facilitated the beginning of the end,
fewer and fewer possibilities present themselves
and we're closing the doors to our future
before we ever knew of their existences
Eliza Fairchild Nov 2016
Time hums
seconds dance along the minutes
spilling over into hours
before the day catches fire
setting this week ablaze
smoldering for months
smoke clouding the years.
I close my eyes
as the clock stops
life exhausted
Eliza Fairchild Nov 2016
I'm confused my mind is turning inside out,
all my thoughts are falling about my feet,
spilling out of my open mouth that's trying to shout.
I'm gagging on an memory of an empty street,
as a chemical reaction filled with clout
turns this world upside down, oh what a treat.
I'm a piece of fiction.
Fractions of ink on a paper,
Pixelated in achromatic spectrum
Under the shadow of dim night lamp
Damp pillows and hopeless heads.

I'm a piece of word,
Tangling in soulless minds
Eventually fades,
Easily replaced.

I'm a scratch of scribbles on a paper.
Cuts through the fingers of beautiful minds
Bleeding dreams and sorrows

The End.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
The lines on the page are wiggling...
slipping through the loose fibers
until they free themselves
tiny graphite slivers
particles of a single
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