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Eliza Fairchild Jul 2016
A cool wind blows
Reminding those of the passing time,
With the setting sun aglow.
Eliza Fairchild Jul 2016
Listen to the sound of life
It seldom has an audience.
Eliza Fairchild Feb 2016
It's true,
we're all just
seeking warmth
and carbon dioxide.
Let a body be
and you'll see.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
One deep breath pushes the anxiety down my throat,
just enough to stop my hands from shaking.

my fingers fumble with buttons,
false comfort lost with each layer.

I'm naked and exposed,
eyes flickering across my body,
contradictions piling up,
making self recognition and impossible task.

A broken binary lies scattered at my feet
like the clothes I've come to dread
and the skin I wish to shed.
Gender is hard, hope to improve upon this soon.
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
element
C
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
The tick tock clock of time begins to turn;
as you roll over the sun sends wisps of light over the horizon.
Your mind softens and stretches out,
reaching through your nerves, filling your body.

The sun now peaking over the horizon,
the light growing stronger begins to stir the world awake.
The early morning glow flows in, filling you with warmth
A radiance of mind
and body.
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
My mind is evaporating, an ego going up in steam
leaving a fragmented self, simple and defined.
Sensory organs play an electrical melody,
as electrons haphazardly dance across my skin.
Thoughts bustling through neurons turns my mind to static.
Eliza Fairchild Jun 2016
Chemical waves crash down on receptors,
leaving me shaking and confused
My stomach winds itself into knots,
the shape of my confused and twisted thoughts.

A jumbled mess of emotions fueled on fumes.
Embers falling down like microscopic stars,
before they hit the ground with a tiny little spark.
All together enough to light my world on fire,
my only remnant a single scorched mark.
It's been a rough week...
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


Tic...

Toc...
Odd feelings about an odd set of people, emotions and experiences.
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
I would say I love you, but I know its not true,
False affections turning me blue.
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.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
Golden hues cause my synapses to tingle,
memories burst and make me wriggle.

Am I alone in this electric feeling,
lost in a misguided myopic way of seeing?

Memories grow week as the days grow shorter,
no longer do the instill and nervous ferver.

My feelings can no longer bridge this gap,
my love is is dying out, drained of its sap.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
The pitter patter of rain echos through the soil,
sending a message in morse code.

Biological clocks begin to turn as fungi wake from their slumber.
Hyphae radiate outward, mapping the skin of the earth,
a living neural network woven into the soil of the forest.
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 May 2016
At equilibrium with the world, a balanced flow in and out.
Emotions crystalline, stories hidden in chemical bonds;
ephemeral memories lost within the lattice full of doubt.
The world glimmers like the reflection of a static pond.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
Your presence once a welcome occurrence,
has come to pass like the ocean currents.
It was always bound to end like this,
the delicate balance had to shift.

I no longer feel the warmth in your smile,
the color in your cheeks was not caused by me.
I though maybe I should just wait a while,
and then I'll surely be able to let my emotions free.
Eliza Fairchild Sep 2016
The flame of the match flickers as it inches closer to my fingers,
the warm glow illuminates my face, giving color to my skin pale with cold.
No warmth is felt as the flame reaches my finger and attempts to set them ablaze,
Just a dull ache as the heat gives life to a limb long since dead.

I've always known long before my body will succumb to the elements,
that my mind would fray and my feelings decay, senses worn away each day.
I always wanted to wear away the nerve endings in my body,
their signals caused chaos in the synapses of my brain.

Now that their unwelcome symphony has passed, I long for a sound.
The wave of sensations that used to ripple throughout my body is lost,
I long a wave of sensation to crash down upon me and send me spiraling into thought,
anything to give life to this monotone existence, cold and listless.
Eliza Fairchild Jul 2016
A feeling as inevitable as the return of the clouds,
or the ebb and flow of the tide, rolls over me.
Brought in by the smell of ozone just before the first drops of rain fall;
their quiet sound shattering the peace of the soil microcosm,
mirroring the dissonance within my own being.

As I sit on the porch of a dilapidated house I can feeling my gears turn,
mismatched cogs grinding up thoughts and emotions,
Their essence fueling the furnace bellow,
an archaic mechanism that was built to burn.

Somewhere along the line it was caused by a mistake in the design,
one purely chemical and utterly inevitable.
Every engineer flummoxed by the nonsensical complexity,
a system without rhyme or rhythm,
held together by some chance of fate.

Winter is the only relief for the endless heat generated within,
gradually cooling parts to the point where one can fiddle within,
each moving part worn thin, lasting just long enough...
Temporary fixes suffice, while on this endless search for a true solution,
a pair of kind thoughtful hands tempered enough to stand the heat,
one perspicacious enough to rearrange the parts within,
a new design that will cease the burning.

The essence of my being has long since been locked deep within,
my body is both the cage an a coffin I some day hope to escape.
It's an inevitable struggle I must face each day,
looking for someone who will find me and take me by the hand,
pulling my soul up out of the depths of it's mechanical prison.
This is my first attempt at writing a longer poem. I don't think the way my mind works is apt for this type of form, it's easy to translate the images in my mind into something more concise but this feels like trying to catch wisps in my open hands. I do hope you made it to the end at the very least and it evoked some image within you, that is my only wish.
Eliza Fairchild Jun 2016
Time turns to liquid, rolling off my tongue like molasses
dripping technicolor drool, viewed through fungal lenses.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
A stranger stares back through the mirror,
their eyes cold and unwavering cause my unnerving.
The soft skin of my cheeks, looks like gnarled wood
The curvature of my body begins to flatten,
archaic versions of my self rise to the surface of my skin.
Each iteration of my self begins to cycle across my body in the mirror.

The emotions, temperament, thoughts and feelings of past selves,
percolates through my consciousness, leaving traces along the way.
A splash of colorful emotion lingers in my cheeks giving them warmth.
The soft memory of lips on my skin bubbles through me.
My skin tingles as each thought bursts at the edge of my existence.
This is to be expected of ephemeral emotions,
their transient nature becomes clear as the colors they once provided
fade to black.
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
The faint flickering of a candle reveals the secrets of the world,
hidden realms found in the space between the body and mind.
It's easy to get lost among-st the shimmering dust.
Eliza Fairchild Jul 2016
The smell of pine lingers on my skin,
long after leaving the comfort of the canopy.
Sap clings to every surface carrying the memories
of winters bitter cold and blindingly dark,
of summers full of sun and song,
of the warmth bubbling up from the earth.

I sought the bright blue sky above the canopy,
but I've found the story of an ancient tree.
Memories well up of a past life,
of a very simple origin seed,
of decades waiting for my time,
of the glorious freedom of light.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
Unseen information flickers by,
flowing against the atmospheric currents
tiny particles giving color to the sky.
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
The landscape streaks by,
a slow shift from city streets to mountain passes.
There is a whole world for my eye to scry,
answers are hidden in grassy knoll not university classes.

You have to be stable like a tree,
a stalwart sensor of your surrounding
Find an equilibrium with the world and let your soul free.

You'd be careful not to pry,
whether among-st the sky or grasses
the world has ways to make you cry
but with time all pain passes.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
I want to dance upon the surface of the ocean,
black as night, with celestial beings all around.
I want to the moon to lift me above the ground
my body sinking into the depths of the sea,
as my mind floats away to mingle with the stars.
Eliza Fairchild Feb 2016
Is it really possible to be present?
Every moment punctuated,
by innumerable
and intangible
increments
of time
.
flicker by
only as fast as electricity
passing through a lone synapse.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
Is it wrong of me to linger on your words?
I can feel myself sinking into the pregnant pause,
just before the light trickles through the curtains,
illuminating the empty space your words held.

I long for your voice, like the lily longs for the rain,
spring showers awaken and unfurls new leaves.
The rain turns a key inside me opening me up again,
letting all the water flow out, just in time for the drought.

The days are getting shorter, as the time since rain elongates,
leaves scorched curl around me, shielding what life is left.

Spring will bring your final bloom,
as the last remnants of your words,
give color to the tips of my petals.
I wish these feelings would fade
Eliza Fairchild Aug 2016
Some days I worry I've tread to far from the realm of reality,
mental tangents too easily followed into the world of fantasy.
I'd step outside my body to view the situation from afar;
the door has always been but my mind never leaves it ajar.

I want to see the world in all of its actual real glory.
I don't want my mind to define what there is to this story.
I'm afraid I won't be able to percieve where reality ends.
and where the world of hallucinations really begins.
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 Jul 2016
sinking into silence
is easier than one would expect,
words need not cross my lips to be felt.
thoughts flow freely through me
evaporating into the vacuum
that is my mind
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
If you could dance among the clouds would you?
Or would you fly further; A celestial being against the shimmering stars.
An ephemeral body transitions between the elements.
Alchemy learned over an eternity is beginning to change,
our time with the earth draws to an end.
As our essence oozes into the matrix of space.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
Oh what a letdown,
as excited electrons
fall to ground.
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
Every step gathers a little more,
giving every life its own lore.

Thoughts sprout and begin to grow,
from a matrix that was built centuries ago.
Eliza Fairchild Oct 2016
Time is slipping through my fingers, stealing your love
A glance at first sight, became a glance of lost perspective
I loved you where there was no space and time
I guess my love for you needed space and time

I'm in the same place as before but time got a hold of me
Now loving you is a rain of poisonous letters
Pouring upon me to rip off my emotions
Time is slowly stealing my love for you...

I wish I could reach through time,
to grab your hand and tell you not to go.
I don't want to be forgotten here,
I wish you would have held me dear.

Pages and pages of memories filled with you are being lost,
the turning of time is the un-writing of our story.
I didn't see it when the letters began to fade;
I didn't see the days you stayed away.

I keep turning the pages hoping to see your scrawl,
but each turn reveals more empty space.
I've become blind to the world as I search for you,
I’ve forgotten how to write memories without you around.

I held your heart in blank spaces of my mind,
It was there that I hoped your love could bloom,
That the fruits of our love could become my ink,
Oh the memories we would paint.

I see you in the foreseeable future,
I want to hold you beyond the imagination,
Love is promised but ocean divides everything,
Just don't leave...
A collaborative poem with McDonald tsiie. http://hellopoetry.com/mcdonald-tsiie/
Eliza Fairchild Aug 2016
Do you really wish to be with me?
Empty words fill the void between us.
This is not how I wished things to be.
I know I really shouldn't make a fuss,
but why does if feel like you can see me?

Maybe I just need to let things go,
and let entropy do what it does best.
I can forget if I just go with the flow
along the way I'll figure out the rest.

The sun sets as the day comes to a close,
I thought I'd hear from you today,
but the silence has fueled my woes
leaving my emotions in disarray.
Eliza Fairchild Apr 2016
It all starts with the condensation of emotions
Cells supersaturated with sadness
Solute buildup presses outward
Overloaded tear ducts haphazardly spill forth
Distilled thoughts leave shimmering trails
before crystallizing leaving
a crust of salt behind.
An ephemeral remnant
bound to wash away
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
burnt
out
.
Eliza Fairchild May 2016
My weary eyelids are propped up on caffeine outlining pensive pupils,
as thoughts flicker across irises, in hazy and unclear hues.

It's about time for the fog to be lifted,
when curtain call brings an end to the last act.

Slipping headlong through time and space, memories are fading ques
Air caressing my cheeks one last time before setting down my quills.

The end of the story is near,
eyes overcast in shadowy veil.
Eliza Fairchild Jan 2016
The comfort found in
A sense of belonging brought forth
By the overwhelming feeling of contentedness
And the strikingly simplicity of nothing.
Eliza Fairchild Sep 2016
It's hard to explain who I am.
Eyes flickering across my body,
looking for faults in the logic.

Contradictions piling up,
as standard operating procedures fail.
Anger and bewilderment to frightened to share...
one little question, awkward and scared.
who am I?

A broken binary falls at my feet
like the clothes I've come to dread
and the skin I wish to shed.
My body left an undefined and unwanted shell.

I'm somewhere deep inside,
trapped inside this human cage.
Eliza Fairchild Jul 2016
The soft glow of candlelight dismisses the passing time,
As the sounds of the world fills the void of space.

In a whisper the wind speaks and says this is the place;
Where we were meant to lie and our hearts beat as one.
An old poem filled with lost sentiments

— The End —