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Why I Write ABout my balls

I overheard my neighbour asking Jesus to come now. People are here trying to kill the son of God twice.

I don’t talk about ’em balls to get girls, neither do I talk about them to entice women. I talk about balls because I own them.


I’ve held them in my palms, quizzed them, and gauged their pulse rate. We’ve held in-depth convos, disagreed, and made a truce.

I love them because they’re selfless. They never ask me why they never go in when the girls they seduced without intent show up. They are okay about staying outside. Even when they serve ’em proteins, they don’t ask to show a face.


They’re not like your MP who prints her face on Sanitary towels. Trust me, they don’t need cheap publicity.
They’re not like your woman who spreads her legs for you but severe your reputation in post-coital evaluation.


They’re not like your best friend who’ll spread your name after bailing you out.
And they’re not like your BFF who never shows up when you need them to.


Balls are philanthropists in small sacs. They give and give but never ask for much.
You talk about your Mercedes, or V8, or Subaru, or your wife. Let me talk about the marbles.
They have survived me.

Men; its hygienic to oil your balls and this is why - Capital ...

Tears

Don’t be worried when I shed tears. Be worried when I stop.
When I shed tears, it means I’m dealing with it like a man should. when I stop it means my system is broken, it can shut down any minute.
#MindMyMind #M3Movement #MentalHealthKE #MHAW2017 #MentalHealthAwarenessWeek2017kwajwa.jpg

Childhood Indulgence

The place we used to hide in is no longer a secret, they have discovered it and known the secrets it kept. Our beautiful moments flew when adulterous wives brought their men in; the charcoal notes stood the test of time—to tell tales of our childhood indulgence.

Love Pencil Art Wallpaper Pencil Art Hd Wallpaper

Scathed

I detoured,
I changed paths
but still I ended up
at the very destination
I was evading

The more you repel
the greater the attraction
The more you indulge
The deeper the void
These days, my soul
swoons in the gloom
as belief slithers away
I’m losing vital parts of me
And growing parts I hate to have
My eyes are heavily smudged
with despondency
Nights overstay
Days are painful hues of red
Something is scathed inside
Could be hope
could be faith
could be discipline
As it bleeds
It rots and burns my belly
Till hell is poked inside me
flickers rise, sparks violence
then razor edges stained
They’ll rust
as my cuts heal
Maybe tomorrow
I’ll not need to cut

I’ll Let Go

One day I’ll master enough strength
To spell your absence
And live with the reality
in print

I’ll mask the heart you’ve hurt
This stupid heart that yearns
And aches for the gentleness of your words

Words that would weave an insult into berries
And serve them as thanks
For the travails I put you through