#obnoxious
my only way of saying sorry
has always been making myself suffer
im sorry for being too much
i tell your lips they can silence me
but your hand will always find its way to my mouth,
instead
i'm sorry i can't give you enough
i tell your heart to say what it needs
but i found no place for me there;
even your stomach does not hunger for me
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 9:51 AM UTC
I like yellow
I like yellow because like me
I like yellow because like me it's loud
I like yellow because like me it's loud, it's obnoxious
I like yellow because like me it's loud, it's obnoxious, it's bright
I like yellow because like me it's loud, it's obnoxious
I like yellow because like me it's loud
I like yellow because it's like me
I like yellow
And I like me
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 6:28 PM UTC
Lavished lady how brilliantly obnoxious you are. I admire how you tower over even the most merciless of men. Look how she floats, you’d mistake her for a benevolent. She can and does do everything. I can only stand here and hope you suffocate on your own ego.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 7:47 PM UTC
let's be friends, wait -
no, let's not be friends;
feelings, stop confusing me.
do you know you sound
like two angels bickering -
and then making out?
when you stare at me,
my reflex says run fast,
but all I want to do;
is run close.
you, I really hate you,
annoying *****
sometimes I want to
slap you straight
into my face, then lips.
and then when I saw you,
behind the ***** windows
with your friends,
and my female best friend,
laughing and sounds of
woos and hoo's -
I give up.
***** this 'friend-shit'.
you once said,
let's be friends,
and I said, go to hell;
but ten years later,
all I want to say is,
let's be friends,
behind the screens.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
I'd never heard a gunshot until I had.
I had never been an orphan till I lost my dad.
I am a broken lot.
I find sadness when I'm alone.
I am annoying.
My mouth skips records--
I interrupt you when I talk.
I talk a lot.
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 2:32 PM UTC
Living healthy in our world
Refers to just the morning jog
A dietitians prescribed diet
And a gym, keeping things tight
Matured cities that are tainted are praised
What for? Healthily breathing the dust sprayed?
Or for,
Beautiful clouds
Dark and Black
Melodious loud horns
Forth and back
Or for,
Vehicles on road
Vroom and Zoom!
Ignorantly leaking,
All kinds of smoky fumes
Just as the day starts
Our healthy living falls apart.
Then welcoming the gloomy nights
Swaying at clubs, dimmed lights
Cigarettes and drinks, late night bars
Obnoxiously healthy we are.
Perhaps the slow poison too **** slow
If only consequences were an instant blow
All of us would not put at stake
Our lives for the choices we make!
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 12:16 AM UTC
The radio is so loud;
My father's voice sounds
Like thunder.
The car is too squeaky;
The cat meowing sounds
Like an obnoxious alarm.
My own thoughts are too noisy;
My voice sounds
Like waves pounding on the shore.
It's like someone turned my
Sensitivity levels all the way up;
Like some form of torture.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 11:06 PM UTC
A quick stab in the side,
At least it will save him from
"bEiNg BoReD"
Talking, snickering, whispering, talking, talking,
Just a quick stab in the back!
Maybe a hammer to the temple,
And a shot through the heart...
No?
Well, fine.
Ruin my fun.
I assure you he'll be back soon
If Satan couldn't listen to Jesus,
This ****** won't stay a day in hell.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 9:49 PM UTC
Rap is crap
Can be written while napping
By simply slapping words like zapping
Up alongside trapping and wrapping
And suddenly you’re a rap star
Driving an expensive car
And before your coffee is cold
You are draped with gold
Maximum bling
But it doesn’t mean a thing
Other than money because honey
If your ‘song’ lyrics are still known.
When ten years are blown by
And you are no longer a famous guy
Whose words are forgotten
It is because they are misbegotten
And liked by the current batch of airheads
Who think this is music when instead
It’s a beat they can feel in their feet
And if they don’t read the words
Printed in the album, what is heard
Is a lot of screaming and percussion
Not worth discussion in Billboard.
Someone could cut the microphone cord
And all anyone could hear would be drums
And the audience spilling their beer,
And nothing worth humming;
Lyrics for the dumbing down of the race,
A major entertainment disgrace
That destroys the ears and means nothing
That will ever be revered like Sinatra
Elvis or The Beatles have done.
It may be number one today
But when time passes away
It will be nothing but the shouts
Of a bunch of untalented louts
To an audience one has to fear
Was born with a tin ear.
Brent Kincaid
6/1/2015
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
I sit before you all today,
Christ deformed on a cross of
Whitman and Eliot and Plath.
You all surround me with your helmets lined with blood stained papers of past battles,
stabbing, tearing, poking and maiming at my ribs with your #2 pencils and ball point pens.
You mark me up, carving me up in red and black for all the mistakes I have apparently made.
You belch out how you would have done it, how it could be better. Why does that matter?
I hang here now, dreading it all.
Gazing at my heavenly home,
I start to ask, “Father, why do I
have to make them love me?
Can’t I just exist and be free?”
And God thunders down to me,
“Sometimes, son, being imperfect
is what makes you too perfect.”
And with his words, I purge myself
of all of the scars and judgment,
and I am born once again, anew.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 11:24 PM UTC
It doesn’t make sense why I hate myself so much
from the outside, but try to understand;
everything that supposedly makes one stand out
really just makes them blend in somewhere else.
So I can’t sleep and don’t even want to be awake.
I’m here because of that and a lot of ****
I just can’t say out loud. **** it.
**** everything.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC