Washed Away

Updated on July 29, 2017
Alex Clausen profile image

Alexandra is a spoken word poet in Edmonton, Alberta; she has been preforming her poetry since April 2016. Dreamer. Fighter. Survivor

Washed Away

Built up emotions are flowing through me like a body of water, strong currents & uphill streams reseeding from the back of my throat. A whirlwind of doubt, mistreatment & the courage that is needed in order to speak freely without being judged.


Breathing is the death of me, breathing is thy enemy in this ironic sense of control of the situation that will soon take its toll.


The water rising, bubbling my skin, from the heat radiating off the emotions that are finding there way out of my body in the waves of the ocean that I will soon drown in, internally. Anger, passion surrounded by lust, causing a reaction of uncontrolled contraction of the elements combined in an enclosed area.


I try and keep my posture tall, my mind in order, to buy more time to alter, change and rearrange every word. Paraphrasing sentences and each initial thought into something I can at least wrap my head around the meanings behind and intertwined in everything I am yet to say, everything that spews from my pursed lips each time your hand touches my thigh.


The emptiness in your eyes, echoes through your voice. I can clearly see the vacancy in your stare, the murkiness of the galaxies that the colour in your eyes processes, are bare. Unaware on how this has come to be, this recognition of your inability to commit. Causing my heart to race a million miles a minute, skipping beats every other second; aching due to its abnormal rate. My bones shake, brittle and out of place; causing pinches in my joints, every time I hear your voice; every time you say my name.


Suspense from the tension falls down all around me, like snow or pixy dust. Casting a spell of an illusion that maybe just maybe everything will be okay, that everything will turn out; eventually...with out a doubt. But easily manipulated by your presence I'm blinded by the aspect of your twisted beautiful lies, that wrap around the stems and thorns of the rose that you gave me when you were trying to win my heart.


The tension bare skinned, stripped and drained left on display for all to see. Like a bride or groom left standing alone at the alter, all eyes glued to the situation then back to you. Eyes of a million different lives reach you with their emotions and thoughts of envy, guilt, anger, and fear trying to reach you before you go numb. Trying to reach you to let you know you're not alone, but with all their pity all their hugs in that moment; you've never felt more alone, you've never felt so numb. All those eyes prying into your gut, heart and mind; trying to remind you you're not left to die but that you're human and you'll survive. But still, you don't stop to listen; there's no need to anymore.


Trying not to open my mouth, trying not to let the words out. Trying not to lose control of the situation, trying to stay still. Like avoiding a sting from a bee, all you do is avoid causing attention to yourself. But as much as I focus, as much pressure I put on my lips, there's still an air pocket, a slit in the part. That causes streams that proceeds into rivers, of true emotion; of everything that's ejecting from inside due to it becoming full. Intriguing you in conversation ive long since been avoiding. Flowing rhythmically, causing attention to be drawn to me. Everything I didn't want, everything I never needed in this situation of self loathing, self healing, letting go and discovering. Your ears can't help to perk up too; like hearing a lullaby your mother used to sing to you every morning and every night up until you were 22. The words I speak, stick to my skin; trying to get back to where they belong, where there safe from harm; but only cause me to become a ticking time bomb.


Your eyes meet mine, chills go up my spine; keeping me straight, up right, confident and presentable. The streams turn into rivers, my mouth moving so fast, trying to divert your attention, to distract you without attempting to change the subject for these words in which I produce are not bullshit, exaggerated or lack attachment to oneself. But the brutal truth of how pain attaches itself to me, how love is lust due to the few that toyed with my heart how the quote "Maybe if I step on enough flowers or break enough hearts, ill forget im made of broken parts" became my attitude towards life. And how everything ive ever learned soon, clicked in all at once.


Who knew the one thing I held on to, the one thing I protected and kept under control; would then destroy me as a whole, inside and out no longer eligible to show the world my capability. Nothing left to show for myself other than the one night I dove into the arms of a man who would break my heart, without opening his mouth. Nothing to remember me by, other than the night I let go of everything that I held onto to simply try and understand why it is I felt love for the first time to a man that could care less. The words trailed on, the sentences ended strong, everything out in the open, the water covering me from my toes to above my head, it would take ages trying to swim back up. Instead of trying , I let myself sink.


Its funny isn't it, the one thing that you created to protect yourself for your own wellbeing, your self mechanisms, would end up destroying you; memory overload. Combust.

© 2017 Alexandra Clausen

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    • Fullerman5000 profile image

      Ryan Fuller 

      13 months ago from Louisiana, USA

      Wow, truly sense a lot emotion is this poem. I love the illustration you chose. Goes with the poem perfectly. It sometimes hurts to know that things we keep to protect ourselves could end up destroying ourselves. Very beautifully written.

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