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Oct 2021 · 504
Letter to my mother
Irate Watcher Oct 2021
I am not going to tell you
what happened to me.

Because it will only
break your heart.

You might blame yourself.

And mother,
that would be a shame.

A man did this,
with his own two hands.

A society missed this,
with its averted gaze.

Genetics did this,
to us doe-eyed
and aesthetic.

You are not to blame.
I am not to blame.
We, women, are not to blame
some deep ****. tell me trauma ain't generational
Sep 2021 · 254
Irate Watcher Sep 2021
You gave me a shread
of love and affection
and I fell over melting.

I'm not used to accepting...
love, or giving it
feels like a simulation
I must get through
I must finish quick!

The sky is hazy
the mountains painted blue
am I truly me
are you truly you?

And I find myself
starting over again
on my way to an island
I've never been.

And i find myself
scarred and wild
a shame to know
the doubts I held.

I never thought
I would lie to my self

I never thought i'd
sideline myself

The clouds blend into
the mountains now
a foggy sunset
at my back.

I'm wondering when
the horizon will end
When it will fail
to illuminate.

When my silhoutte
will shivver and quake
the cool breeze
from the mediterranean
drying my sweat
Some draft
Feb 2021 · 271
Irate Watcher Feb 2021
It's a mystery
those things you
do to me.
I'm silent and
my head is chatty.
safe and wild,
fully vested,
fat and happy.
Content to
not be leaving.

When I think
of the feelings
I feel about you,
it becomes
too much,
and not enough.

When I see
you watching me
watching you,
watching me
sky blue eyes
shining down

And we're lying
between palms,
our hands
caressing the sand,
even when were back to back
i think of *******
and touching skin.

It's all so mysterious
that my life might be
about to begin...again.
that you could be more
than a friend...
my family

adores you.

It's clear they
see how you look at
me and how i look back
at you.

It's so mysterious that
spending every night
together could be...
normal after spending
so much time apart.

It's all so mysterious...
Your so mysterious.
Yea it's all so mysterious...
Yea your so mysterious
Dec 2019 · 251
Primitive mind
Irate Watcher Dec 2019
When hunger subsides,
I’m *****.
After I *******,
I’m thirsty
I can never feel
ok with just sitting.
If I’m not entertained,
I’m a slave to my
head  where all I want
is to quickly digress:
A new distraction
A new reaction
A new way of living.

I tell myself drink
water and be stoic,
but changing taste.
is my addiction
I can’t even enjoy
that nice feeling before...

I’m worrying about
acquiring the next.
A haste of comfort and confinement —
when will I tire of it.

My vision is blurry
and I’m happy
and everyone knows it.
The kitchen’s a mess,
but smells like heaven
My throat is closing
and the mucus is drowning me.
I wonder what condition afflicts
me, but keep on singing...

Aug 2019 · 327
Irate Watcher Aug 2019
I'm coming upon a
slightly sick feeling
my forehead
is opening
and the world is

Like the rapture
is about to begin
like I'm holding my head
in my hands

Like I could predict something
wearing my best pajamas
and purple slippers.

I'm slightly sick to my
my blood sugar is dropping
and everything is spinning.
am I just dehydrated
or this some moment
of reckoning

Everyone next to me
is absorbed in their own
do they feel the bending
the pause
the time slurring?

My chest hurts
and my phone
is slipping from my fingers
the ground is shaking
and my anxiety is rising
if I died here,
waiting for
to dissolve under
my tongue slowly.
Would anyone catch me?

I've never been this
affected emotionally
what a strange plane
what a residual display
of yesterday's gray
trickling through me.

I'm faint
Everything is blurry
and my tongue is swelling
I'm faint
I have no way
to stand up
simple steps
feel like too much
I'm faint
Like a delicate dove
on its back
lying in your arms
barely breathing.
Jun 2019 · 521
I want
Irate Watcher Jun 2019
I want to be a model citizen of industry
I want to be so temperate
you can't feel my feelings.
can you swallow me darling
are you getting chilly
come up and warm me.

I want to be a snake in the ground
shout out loud a paragraph
to rally the weary
do you believe me baby
do you believe me?

I want to be reliable
instead of relying on
my personality
oh charisma charisma
an imposter you believe
so long as it's behind
a pretty face like mine..

I want to be a silent hero
do something extraordinary
that no one sees
hold your applause
till I'm deep deep deep

in the ground
I want to shout it out loud
a paragraph that resounds
with the weary...I want to
make them see

I want to make them see.
Maybe the start of a song
Jun 2019 · 314
Irate Watcher Jun 2019
I can't process this.
I can't process this.
It's too loud and
and the sound has cut out.
I can't process this.
Jun 2019 · 806
Irate Watcher Jun 2019
We touch. We vibe.
Has me shaking with delight.
It's electric. It's fire.

I want to touch more of you.
Jun 2019 · 508
Easter Sunday
Irate Watcher Jun 2019
We ****** on Easter Sunday
It was awkward Monday
We basically
gave Jesus the *******
and split.
Didn’t even bother to kiss…

You just tied my hands round my back
Whispered ‘do you like that.’
I don’t know.
I don’t what this is
But I’m feeling pretty
Bliss-ed out
Not sleeping on your couch.

Since then I think of that night often
After all,
you resurrected my libido from its’ coffin.
knew you were a real man
When you didn’t wipe the blood off your hands
When it didn’t make you sick
and you didn’t come too quick

Am I **** if I **** a ****?
It was quick.
And I said never again
Let’s be friends
But now I think about it
too often in the night
Wonder why I think about

When we’re not meant to be
and lately it feels like
you’re scolding me
with your wide eyes
silently commanding,
leading me to a locked room
to undress me.
Oh **** I want it to happen again
Oh **** being friends.

I feel so restrained
Waiting day after day
jumping on ever opportunity
when you flirt with me
Lovin every second our
secret camaraderie.

Cause it’s fun. it’s a game
And the dynamic is different but the same
Not talking about what we did
on Easter Sunday.
Cause **** Monday.
Apr 2019 · 240
Morning thoughts
Irate Watcher Apr 2019
You pulled my heart
Out like a wrench
I just want to
start over again
Build something
Kind of different
Apr 2019 · 311
Pseudo name
Irate Watcher Apr 2019
I changed my name
to a pseudo name.
I don't know if it's empowering
or sad,
but those poems aren't me
Once they're out
they're behind me.
I want them to exist as standalone
treatises, free from me.
The only reason I
would attach them
would be for attention.
I don't want that kind of attention.
I don't want them to know me.
I can't say...
what I want to say.
It just doesn't feel safe.
It just doesn't feel like there is space.
Mar 2019 · 274
I'm not waiting
Irate Watcher Mar 2019
Not waiting around
for you to decide
this is wrong or right
I'll take dates
to spite...

They're placeholders.
It's fine.
It's exciting
when you don't
care and just
put yourself out there.

Shouldn't you care?
Or does a small part
it won't turn out
Oh well.
Oh well
I keep telling myself.
Mar 2019 · 193
Secret life
Irate Watcher Mar 2019
I keep it to myself
and I keep it small
little mentions
here and there
enough to intrigue
you to want more.
I'd never bore you
to death I'd ****
myself first.
Mar 2019 · 198
When things are complicated
Irate Watcher Mar 2019
I wonder if you think of me in the night
I know it's a waste of time
Even though I think
I can read your smile
I can't
get over it.
I tell myself
I won't be broken
if you decide
I'm not worth it
or just want to
dip your toes in.
I want to fall forward
go all in.
Be your new best friend.
I want you to hold me.
My eyes roll back
and imagine...ughhh
I'm feeling weak just thinking
about how you'd touch me.
Pardon me if I shake.
I'm just so excited
trying to tell myself it's ok.
It's ok.
It's ok.
It's ok.
Irate Watcher Mar 2019
I'm trapped in my own perspective
It's not good for me
I'm bored with hobbies
Seeking out the old me
Where was she
Aimless for sure
But insanely curious
Don't know for sure
Where is she hiding
Behind a table maybe
Underneath a cool
dark rock like
a salamander
trying to find her
The late night settling
trying to catch some sleep.
Where is she.
Where is she.
Looking around longingly
I don't have time time
to look anymore
I just gotta live
and forget her.
It's so sad
she is like a stray
cat lost forever
her bones lie
in the forest
in the trees
she was second guessing
Mar 2019 · 310
Irate Watcher Mar 2019
I'm not yours.
I don't belong to you.
Even if we were together
we're not two.
It's not here to please you.
It's here to please me.
I'd rather kick
drink a martini
And relax than pursue something
with you.
I have things to do.
And not enough things to say.
to you.
I got work to do
And while you got me feeling loose
I can't pursue
Feelings are fading fast
cause I know this ain't gonna last.
Your too **** passive aggressive
and I'm so past that.
Because I'm not ok with that.
I've tried to rationalize it a hundred times
And it never feels right.
****** semi consciously
over and over again.
I can't stand it.
I won't tolerate it
or accept it.
Because truth is
I'm over it.
I'm exhausted.
Feeling like I gotta play
this game where I have no stake
never make a mistake
it doesn't make sense.
All it does is nag my conscience.

Saying no is starting to
feel a lot like saying yes.
Not gonna apologize
for being a knife to your chest.
Truth is I tried my very best,
but your just not for me.
And I really gotta leave.
Mar 2019 · 239
Irate Watcher Mar 2019
We are different
people ok there
nothing matters
Or is the Same
The conversations
we had
Almost as if they never happened.
We talk in the night
We say no to life
Everything is possible
When nothing is possible
You had  me too long
We can't acknowledge we have a past
It doesn't exist here anyway
Feb 2019 · 144
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
I wake up and think...
all of those were dreams
none of them matter
gotta move on
go take a shower.
Feb 2019 · 470
Rollar rink
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
He's headed to the roller rink
She's headed downtown
To see no one
to be around nobody
a perfect night to themselves
doing nothing for nobody.

He sits in his car
the music blaring
softly sighing
hoping to
drown out
the latest saga
Why must others make their
problems his problems.
See, he has his own problems
But he doesn't put them on other people.
He prefers to purge then on paper
Get them out and forget about them
Because these things aren't important
When the night is cool
and it's about to rain
And the lights stream by like bolts
speeding down a empty road.

Drown it out
dance in the moonlight
and shout
shake his hands
whip his hair
Forget the world
for awhile
walk alone at night,
anything to extend this quiet
anything not to go inside.

She's biking in Noho
It's 2am and it's
that California cool outside.
Riding with no handlebars
playing some Dorian concept,
burning a natural high.
Another sleepless night
remedied by impulsiveness
and exercise.

She don't want to go home
seems like this bike path
could stretch till the end.
And anyone who stares
is just a pedal away
a pedal behind
makes her feel so safe.

Drown it out
dance in the moonlight
and shout
shake her hands
whip her hair
Forget the world
for awhile
walk alone at night,
anything to extend this quiet
anything never to go inside.

He hears a song
nostalgic it travels
him in time,
head back he closes his eyes -
trying to remember
what it felt like to ride
open and exposed to the
elements, his headphones in

She feels the bright
of headlights.
just one more block to go,
her hands cold
and forehead sweating.
Her thighs burning,
her back aching.
Her hairs standing,
her face clammy.

Drown it out
dance in the moonlight
and shout
shake her hands
whip her hair
Forget the world
for awhile
walk alone at night,
anything to extend this quiet
anything not to go inside.
A little song for my introverted self
Feb 2019 · 453
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
Im straddling you
and tearing up inside.
My kisses are solemn
and shaking.
I tell you I'm nervous
It's been awhile.
You moan with delight
as my jeans grind
against yours.
I'm doubting the
authenticity of this
exercise but you seem to
like it so I continue.

My eyes water
like someone chopping onions
yours are closed
rolled back into
their sockets.
I tense,
waiting for you to notice
salty tears
streaming down
my face
but nothing is said
and we just continue.

I come up with a couple
explanations for my back pocket
where you hand currently
grasps the fleshy part of my ***.
I'm sensitive.
I'm about to get my period.
I get emotional sometimes.

All partially true
the truth is is that.
I feel bad.
Not bad, but bad.
closing my mouth while kissing you.
stoically replying to I miss you.
It probably seems like
I'm damaged in some kind of way.
And I probably am,
But I don't think that's why
I'm acting so shy and strange.

I think I already
gave my heart away.
The receiver
just doesn't know it yet.
See with him,
I feel shy, but never strange.
My protective instincts
melt away --
I guess he makes me feel safe.
I don't know why you don't.
But I find myself
shutting you out
so I can let him in,
one day.
Maybe it's the sound
of his voice,
or the thoughtful pauses
between enigmatic takes.
breaking through the
static I've dreamt
of changing it's frequency.
Your own is loud,
booming. Not so fluctuating.
I didn't hear it before we met.
I didn't have the opportunity
to imagine
the head neck and throat
it was attached to.
You were just there,
all 6'3" 200 plus pounds of you.

You treat me nice,
pay for my meals,
make me laugh...
Yet when
you lean in
I turn into
the turtle version
of myself
pulling away.
Maybe I'm afraid.
It's stupid but I
feel like saving
my body and feelings
for him
despite many
touching them before.
I want to be available
when he's ready,
even if ready
takes a long time.
I don't want to
let myself be content,
and forget about him.

He would notice I
was crying right now
and ask what was wrong.
He notices everything.
Sometimes it's annoying
when he asks if I'm ok 50 times
but I can't help but love it.
I don't even want you to ask.
See I'm uncomfortable
being open
when I'm half-committed,
in body,
but not in spirit.
Feb 2019 · 367
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
the tip
of the iceberg.
10% there. 90% submerged
just waiting for a rogue ship to wreck.
I'm cold. Like ice. And what you can't see below the lapping of waves is more ice.
Large and impenetrable.
Our chance encounter
enough to break you
to pieces. You'll
only hurt yourself
trying to get to know me.
Your expectations left sore.
Your mind left reeling.
They must have warned you
these waters are cold
and choppy
and dark.
Feb 2019 · 221
Joy/meaning list
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
Connection to family
getting to know
someone more deeply
meeting new people
seeing new places
seeing old places
experiencing new things
experiencing old things
feelings of bliss
feelings of love
feelings of self sufficiency
hearing music that inspires me
seeing or experiencing art that inspires me
creating without an end in mind
walking without a destination
being surprised
Eating pizza
Doing yoga
Feeling the sun on my face.
Sleeping deeply.
Flipping in the air.
Remembering that it is amazing
I'm inside this body
and could of been inside others.
Being myself and being
accepted for it.
Long hugs.
Touch in general.
Feeling enough to cry.
Taking a leap of faith
and it working out.
Taking a leap of faith
and falling on my face
and learning from it.
Feeling deeply engrossed in a book
or documentary.
Understand the world
just a little bit better.
Knowing I have options
and vetting them.
Letting someone else
make a decision for once.
Doing what I feel
and not necessarily
what I should do.
Being nice to strangers.
Feeling like I don't have
to protect myself or my feelings
or my thoughts.
Other people thinking
I'm cool for things
that come naturally.
Laying in bed
And staring at the ceiling.
We are always writing to do lists, but never write lists about the things that make us happy. This is an exercise suggested by one of my favorite authors, Brene Brown.
Feb 2019 · 191
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
I am a little disoriented
I get lost sometimes
I dream of grandeur
Of you holding my hand
there in the moonlight
we walk.
We have smart conversations
marveling everything.
It's never time to go.
We're too slow with our meanduring.
We read each other too thoughtfully.
Adoring, not owning.
Remembering, not anticipating.
I love you
I love you
I love you
I don't need to date you
because I already love you
dear friend you know don't you
the secret smile
your embrace
your conversate
its obvious right.
I'm not going crazy.
Please tell me I'm not going crazy.
Just hold me until I'm worthy.
Drunk poem
Feb 2019 · 682
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
So bad,
I want to impress you.
It sickens me
thinking of all
the ways I
put myself
even in my humility
I'm trying to seem approachable.
wishing you
had witnessed
these highlights.
Not nearly so interesting
without commentary.

I fear
I won't be so free
to explain myself
without you
explaining me back.
Pinning me down
to get the jist.
Too familiar with my
angular hips
to pay mind
to a spirited mix.
Feb 2019 · 203
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
A pang in my chest
says don't pursue
him he'll be just
like the others
patting you on the head
and telling you who you are
until its bored into you.
You'll leave looking
for strangers
to surprise
who doesn't know
your favorite wine
maybe he'll choose
something refreshing
that you don't like.
At least it will be
different, not the same
until he walks away
and it's over.
And you suddenly
miss having someone
who knew you that way -
so we'll.
oh well.
So you'll take some time
to stretch yourself
and then you'll be ok
and then you'll start looking
but find nothing and quickly
spiral into a depression
because no one wants
to know you like he did.
So you'll call him
and complain
about your lack of options,
feel guilty for oversharing
then send him
a naked pic for listening.
And the you'll go on
a date with someone 'great'
and then they'll disappoint you
because they seemed spontaneous
but aren't really or are
but don't have their **** together.
And then you'll...
**** I can't do it anymore.
Feb 2019 · 185
Insecure art
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
I wanna share
all my poetry with you
but then you might
Just like me...?
An insecure 'artist'
with too many
Feb 2019 · 209
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
It feels like it will
never end with these friends
until it does
until we barely
keep in touch
until every inside joke
or hug
I can't remember
how did it feel
to be apart of them
wait I'm alone now.
Feb 2019 · 3.4k
Figured out
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
There was something
strange about your
like you were
trying to place me
but couldn't quite
figure out where...


I'm not easily
I can't be easily
figured out.
My ******
and body language
are incongruous
My body itself
is a polygon
with undefined
sides and length.
You'll never calculate.
You'll think you have the
answer a dozen times
before you do, and
then you still won't.
We all know you're
predictable as ****, but
I'm not.
I don't compute.
I am not a number.
I am more like a force.
A deep feeling in
your gut you ignore.
That you follow and then question.
The purpose of a pilgrimage
that started with someone different.
Just go with it.

I am good at ******* yes.
Once you've kissed my holy *******
there is nothing more to discover.
You'll know me inside and out.
Touched me in a way no one else has...laughs
Let's just go with that.
Feb 2019 · 366
Everything I miss
Irate Watcher Feb 2019
You'll never know
where the wild things grow
where crevices meet hands
where promises still stand
where sunflowers
reach beyond heads.
When was the last time
you frolicked?
Will you frolick with me
Grab my hand
let's go
before it gets dark.
Jan 2019 · 126
Morning run
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
Wake up and
beat the sun.
Run along the
cool pavement.
Drink air.
Wind head
walking home
for eggs
and coffee,
wishing this
moment could
live forever,
without tiring.
Jan 2019 · 343
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
You are not an imposter.

Look at the cumulous clouds.

They're everywhere.

They do whatever the **** they want.
Jan 2019 · 122
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
I stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back.
Something comical yet resounding my co-worker said today.
Jan 2019 · 284
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
Take off the makeup
Take off the clothes
Run naked
Feel exposed
Get arrested
Decry my advice
Do it again.
Don't think twice.
Jan 2019 · 2.3k
I am not wife material
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
No, I do not have
a circle of
who will
as I pop a bottle
of champagne,
and wear a sash that
says: "Same ***** forever."

I have never been comfortable
in groups or embracing memes
that are sadly, true.

Since I was a young girl,
I knew
I was different.
I never attracted
a consistent
group of girlfriends
as much as I wanted to
be accepted,
they eyed me with suspicion,
as I awkwardly attempted
to discuss lipstick shades,
as if it were the end of the world
should they chose incorrectly.
I never actually learned
how to apply lipstick correctly.
I still **** it up.

I wore athletic pants
but I was not gay.
Their denim and tight
shirts just felt restraining.
When they talked
about ***** or ***
or periods, I just shrugged.
I didn't have any of those things.
I didn't beg my mom for an overpriced
prom dress,
because that's fiscally irresponsible
when you only where it once.
I didn't playfully avoid the boys flicking
cheez-its down my cleavage,
because I didn't have cleavage for boys to
flick cheez-its down!
I wasn't joining a sorority
because I didn't subscribe to
that version of sisterhood —
spending money I didn't have and
doing ******* I didn't have time for.

I was taught
as women
that our
mutual quest is to
waste each other's time
and money.
To make posters
and cookies for people.
To look and feel anything
but ourselves.
To strive toward
mediocre accomplishments
related to our wardrobe
and appearance.

There was no place for my
pragmatic contrarianism
as a women. I was supposed to be
overly concerned with the next concert
I was going to and dying my hair
a new shade of pink.
But whatever if I fail Spanish because
our teacher was a ***** anyway.

I hated being a women.
I didn't feel like a man,
but ****** if I would
be cajoled into a cult
where in order to gain respect,
I had to make myself small, less.
Even as I wrote this poem, I hesitated to
describe myself earlier,
as pragmatic,
because as a women,
I'm not supposed to define myself.

I was the most cliche misanthrope.
My outlook on humanity
was pretentious,
an amateur armchair
philosophy major:
They were the herd,
and I was a lion
with no interest
in chasing them
in their brightly
colored t-shirts.

It was late in college
that I started to realize I was wrong.
That there were plenty of
women who weren't the girls
from high school.
There were other outsiders like me.

But it wasn't until my mid-20's that
I didn't hate myself for being a women.
Hating my curve-less
body, how unfortunate
I had to bleed each month
when I didn't even feel like
I belonged.

It wasn't until I respected myself,
that I began to respect other women.
It wasn't until I stopped hating my body,
that I stopped prioritizing my intelligence
over others, especially when the men in my life
told me I was one of the smart ones.
It wasn't until I respected myself as a women,
that I could cultivate
deep and meaningful friendships
with other women.

I still hesitate to say
I have found sisterhood.
I still feel like an imposter sometimes.
But don't worry.
I will have bridesmaids.
See, I have friends.
They just aren't the kind
that make me wear a sash
gleefully declaring
my ***** prison.
They know me better.
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
this is another poem
about ****.

I know you’re
exhausted from
hearing them.

I know it makes you uncomfortable.

There I
go apologizing again.

Ok. Reframe.
Start over. Own it.

This is a poem
about **** and you better
******* listen.

Ok too harsh,
too harsh.
They’re not gonna listen now.


Ok, uhh...
personal story.
One time my
best friend and I
were ***** by the same

Ok wait, no...
too personal.
They’ll just pity me,
instead of seeing the
larger issue.

Ok, I think I finally got it.

To give you an idea
of the numbers,
all of my friends and I
have been victims
of  ****** assault.

Great, perfect,
not too personal,
we can talk about it in the abstract
like nothing terrible
happened to me,

That’s it. That’s it.
That’s how we can talk about.
Submerging our feelings
with facts.
Statistics are our best friend.

So here it goes:
Did you know false reports of ****** assault are
rare, ranging from 2 to 10%
of all reported ****** assaults.
That the percentage
I just quoted was
from a study that
collected data over 10 years
from reports on a college campus,
after determining in a meta-analysis of 20
other studies on false reporting that the
FBI data used was "unreliable."

Conversely, about 63% of
****** assaults go unreported.

Wouldn't it make sense
to air on the side of
believing women
then? As opposed to
insinuating they could
have ulterior motives
reporting ****** assault,
political or otherwise.

That isn't an argument.
That is fear talking.
That is guilt talking.
That isn’t us having a conversation –
that’s just you blabbering illogically,
crippled by the fear you’ll be next.

You are wrong.
You are wrong!
Your arguments are baseless.
You are completely ignoring the facts.
There is no evidence.
You need to stop talking,
and politely listen.
Because you have a lot to learn.
And while we are not obligated,
many of us are willing to teach you:

The only ulterior motive women
have 'outing' people,
for a CRIME
they committed,
the only benefit,
is to make sure the person responsible
doesn't **** someone else.
And you not believing us,
you chastising us,
you rolling your eyes,
you silencing us,
lets that person walk free.
Jan 2019 · 130
I will (pt. 2)
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
I will talk to the boy
when I can communicate
without feeling
when I stop feeling like such a **** imposter
when I can like
myself ok
for more than a day.
when I can accept
myself for who I am,
when I stop giving
a ****

I'll sit next to him
will rolls
over my jeans
flashing my whiteish
and he'll caress my
clearish face
and tell me how
perfect I am.
Jan 2019 · 387
I will
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
I will talk to the boy
when my teeth are
straight when they
are whitened
when there are no
blackheads on my nose
when the warts are
frozen from my hands
when my nails are painted
and my ******
is shaven.
when my belly
is toned,

I'll sit next to him
without having
to **** in,
flashing my white white
smile, across my spotless
and he'll be
by how well I can play piano
and guitar
and recite poetry
by my insightfulness.
by my vivid imagination
and reckless travel stories.
And I'll finally
deserve it.
Because to be loved,
I must be perfect.
Jan 2019 · 140
There is hope in this
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
O, how I crave so much
for wandering blue eyes
to follow me.
Yet when you look
my direction,
I look down.
I dream of staring back,
of confessing the
thoughts that tie
our hearts.
Accepting your
bony embrace,
and laughing
about us agonizing
separately over
whether the feeling
was mutual.
Silently dreading
whether the
anxiety leading up
to the feeling
was worth it.
Jan 2019 · 488
Time wasted
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
Think of
all the time you wasted

trying to find
the matching sock.
when the one
in your hands
was perfectly sufficient.
Jan 2019 · 142
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
I spend too much time
replaying conversations
that never happened.
Imagining you
behind me.
Looking forward,
just to look back
and laugh.
Jan 2019 · 437
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
You say —
it is impossible
to read
people within
your own frame
of reference.

You’re a neuroscientist,
so I should probably believe you,
because you know
about how
the brain processes

You say —
communication is the closest thing
we have to reading someone’s thoughts.
You can't infer the type of person someone is
or what they'll do
from their actions alone —
you just need to ask them.

Evolution is a testament
to the power of speech.
It allows us to co-exist peacefully
with other human beings,
warn them of danger,
or tell them where the food is.

But evolution isn't so
intelligent, and I would premise
that communication
is just a workaround

First of all,
humans lie
when they want
for us to read
what is NOT in
their mind.
Rarely will one
get a straightforward answer
to the question: "Are you lying?"
And should you really expect to?

You say,
of course you can tell
when people are overtly lying.
There are biological signs
of deception
and we're hard-wired to detect
them —
the overly detailed stories
prolonged eye contact
calculated breathing,
are all indicators
of fibbing.

Ok, so there is truth-telling and lying,
but like most dichotomies
there are several somethings
in between.
Like when people don't mean
what they say,
but say it anyways — miscommunication.
Or when people genuinely
believe the words they spew
are true, but they are — mistaken.
Or when people
want so badly
for words to be true...
but they
not — denial.

For example,
someone like you
could tell me over and over again
that you're sorry,
But communicating isn't gonna help
heal the bruises, honey.

I’m so scared
you'll hit her
when you raise your voice.

I don’t know how to talk about it
because when I do,
she suffers the consequences.

I’m so nervous
I’ll have know about it
the entire time
and still have done nothing.

If I say something,
I’m so worried
she'll think I’m overreacting,
and then stop telling me stories.

What is the least about of harm
you can do
before I’m allowed to speak.
Is it a bruise?
Why must I wait
for the inevitable
just to say
I saw it coming all along.

The complete disregard for her as a partner,
your disrespect, the verbal assaults,
are known precursors of domestic violence.

As is my silence.
But I can't seem to
communicate the situation
without making it worse.

I can’t known for certain
why you treat her this way
from my frame of reference,
because the evidence neither supports or denies
my claim, and I am judge-mental if I infer it anyway...

until it is too late.
Because it wasn't a truth or a lie,
just a thing I knew deep in my bones,
but was told I have no
evidence for
from people like you.

People rarely mean what they say.
Why should I trust their displays
over my own judgement.
Yes, sometimes we are trapped in perspective
and then our perspective turns out to be wrong
about people.
But it takes someone strong,
to risk being wrong,
when she is
chastised for it.
Jan 2019 · 178
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
I break it into
e  c
until they mean
Jan 2019 · 4.4k
Sister spinster
Irate Watcher Jan 2019
I'm a spinster,
sick of seeing my
sisters treated as
picked and wilted.
Their petals
ripped and ragged.
In a cloudy vase --
the water needs changing,
but what's the point,
at this point?
She died when
you picked her --
cut from her roots,
She is lacking nutrition,
She can no longer absorb
the wind's wild sustenance.
She is too preoccupied
trying to survive,
and ill-cared for.

when she is dry
into the compost,
she goes.
rooting another
told to wait
for someone to
pick her.

But if you think
a flower is beautiful,
let her remain
with her sisters.
I have many wonderful, smart, independent women in my life who deserve better from their partners.
Dec 2018 · 1.3k
Irate Watcher Dec 2018
You left my head
spinning like a dime.
Perplexed, suspended
in gooey time.
Us, a quandary, for sure--
never have I felt
a love, so pure.
Unrealized moments
melding an overture.
I'll miss you lots,
platonic or not.
Hugs goodbye
never enough.

Kindred spirit --
swirl like the wind
and send it.
I'll wait
eagerly as the snow melts
and reveals green
and we're hiking again.
Till then,
I'll miss you, dear friend.
One of my good friends are leaving and I'm going to miss him dearly.
Dec 2018 · 2.5k
Irate Watcher Dec 2018
When everything is clean
and in it's right place
I always think I'll feel...
ready to
live my life

But all
I ever
want to do,
is replace
what I threw
To fill
the empty space.

And it's meaningless.
It's all meaningless
I'm just adding things to my to-do list and checking them off. But nothing ever seems finished.
Dec 2018 · 352
Looking back
Irate Watcher Dec 2018
It is useless to look back,
and see how pretty and smart
you were.

You are still
pretty and smart.

You won't notice till...
the chimes strike past.

You won't see it till...
you are looking back.

You wont feel it till..
you are unhappy with
your present,
the future.

Looking back at the past.
Wasting time looking back
at the past.

When you could be
creating memories
to look back on...

or not.
Spent some time reading my old poems. Then realized I wasn't creating anything new.
Nov 2018 · 4.0k
Moving to the suburbs
Irate Watcher Nov 2018
It creeps up on me.
The sneaking suspicion
that I'm stuck
in it.
My hair is falling
in my face.
Only a year ago...

I built everything —
it was so clear.

Even though —
it was chaos.

People were worried.
But it was simple.

It was as simple
as simmering sausage
in a saucepan,
sweating in a brick kitchen,
listening to Sade,
and thinking of rooftops.

Things are more grounded now.
People are less worried.
The kitchen is smaller,
and shared.
I turn down Sade
when someone enters.
I'm still sweating,
but it's because something
is wrong with the heating system.

I long to take
an anonymous walk
between buildings.
There are only
and shopping centers here.
And I keep running
into people who know me.

It's either too cold or too hot —
It's never summer every day.

Everything that was hanging on
my walls
is on the floor.
Precious paintings and prints
dusting with potential.

I reveal myself
less to strangers.
I don't take public transportation.
It's disconcerting how
comfortable having a vehicle is.
I feel urged to uproot,
swinging in someone
else's hands,
but feel like..
I'm interrupting.
Can't I just arrive for awhile?

My safety net is too big
and my home is too small.
But if I abandon it,
I'll wonder if I'm bound
to be restless.
This comes from the heart. I don't mean to complain — I'm grateful for what I have now and am so happy to not be struggling. But sometimes, with things so comfortable, I feel less alive and wonder if I'm getting complacent.
Nov 2018 · 251
A dream for reality
Irate Watcher Nov 2018
A copy
A vacant
A hollow
A skeleton.
A shallow
A decoy.
A dupe.

This is existence.
Entangled in knitted sleeps.
Red and warm.
When will the brains
fall into the wake
wading far far far
to lap, lap, lap
hints of silence
blue and cool
glimpses untold
but felt.
Inspired by a dream I had where I couldn't make objects fit together like I wanted, because they weren't what I wanted.
Oct 2018 · 3.3k
Technology haiku
Irate Watcher Oct 2018
Tiny hogs *******
away a bright little dream
bit transparent screens.
Oct 2018 · 490
Everyone is tryna.
Irate Watcher Oct 2018
Everyone is tryna

like they might


who they are

and who they

Like remembering a password.
It's mentally taxing.

When will they tire
of defining

access to their profile.

Let others define

They are going to

What's the point of
insisting you are
who you are,
when all thats left

is what others thought.

when all that's left
is particulates of dust

clinging to a
dusty mirror.

What were flaws,


What was treasured,


What was controversial,

memories like
s k i p p i n g records.

You know stop
means it's over.
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