Teller Of Tattered Tales

@ToyosiBeamz @AnikeBeloved__ @xygort A grin just crawled upon my face like a garter snake. 🙏🙏🙏

@AnikeBeloved__ @xygort @puppet_mirror

Who are your favourite writers on this app?

@MacMacau @oldmanshinji @HeyArsy Because they are lying. These people are industry plants that serve to promote the illusion of profitable gambling. I have seen so many posts like this and they never ever say what coin because they are trying to fool those who cannot think.

@oldmanshinji @HeyArsy They never answer this

My $600 turned into $52,000… Didn’t sell because I wanted $100k. It’s $290 now and I regret it every day.

You do not restore balance through revenge. There is nothing to restore in the first place. Let's say for example, worst case scenario, you walk into your house and you see a man in bed with your wife, your mate guarding instincts are on fire now, how would you restore such a balance, what would you do, kill the man, kill your wife and spend the rest of your life in jail? How does any of these silly choices unfuck your wife? Learn to lick your wounds. Half of suffering is what you have faced, the other half awaits you in and after the short lived thrill of vengeance.

If you enter a dark room, switch on the light bulb, now there are light particles (photons) emanating from the bulb, spreading across the room, once you switch off the light, how do these photons instantly disappear? Why does the room suddenly get dark when just a second ago, there was more than a billion of light particles traveling across this tiny galaxy of a room? What happens to the light that was already created by putting on the bulb? Why does something as beautiful and pure as light instantly decay before the human eye?

Lately, I feel so extraordinarily good about not having any money at all. I no longer feel the guilt of not wanting to give that I always felt when I had. I don’t feel the guilt of expectation again. I no longer possess the weight of judgment, the precondition to give or withhold does not exist. I no longer possess the power to purchase love. Poverty has liberated me.

I lost two of my very good boxers today. I saw huge gaping holes in them and I started wondering how come I never noticed them. I mean huge holes, big enough for my nuts to completely slip through and roll off my knees. How could this have happened to me? I make jest of women when I take off their clothes and I see panties with potholes in them. Now I guess before laughing, I will always do well to check myself. We could all have holes in our underwear and we wouldn't know.

If I constantly say YES to everything you ask me for I am eventually going to end up hating you. Our relationship can only remain rock solid if I do not interfere with your lack and your stupid decisions. I will watch you fall into a hole and thin down to dust because that’s where you deserve to be. That is the natural consequence of the choices you have made. Helping you at such a time will deprive you of a great learning experience. And it will overburden me. And I will resent you for it. And you will resent me for given you only half a bandage. Because helping you is never a complete task.

Keeping quiet is the most sensible approach to getting by in life. And it is the only thing that I cannot do. My mouth is the frou frou of a woman's skirt. Not saying anything destroys me. I say whatever I think at the same moment it occurs to me. If you tell me any secret, I will make sure I tell it to as many people as possible.

When I was a little kid, my mom would always try to introduce me to the children of her friends. Try to make us all friends by putting us in the same play pen. I mean she liked those her friends and naturally I liked my mom, but for some reason I just hated those other kids. I called them together one day in the backyard of our house and I promised to give each of them a piece of fried chicken if and only if they swore never to come to our house again. They all happily agreed. It was the easiest trade I ever made. And I began to suspect they didn’t like me either. They took my drumsticks anyway. And later on, I felt duped. I felt like a sucker.

@ChikaNwudoh Thank you 🙏

@puppet_mirror 😩😩 I like how you write

“This babe too fat, I no fit even touch this kind person with a ten foot pole”. You said this and I still caught you both naked. Your penis in half mast and her body beside you like a rafter that you held on to. Her fatness apparently did not stop you from finding the fissure between her legs. You can’t touch her with a ten foot pole but you did with a pole that is less than 5 inches. Someone you sold down the river just a few days ago. You should hang your head in shame. The rat that falls into a bucket of dye, will still reveal the color of its own skin.

@bodybyzedd Algorithm hasn’t been kind to me

@puppet_mirror Is it the algorithm or you haven’t been posting for a bit?

I have being so infatuated with women that I have asked for some of the craziest trifles to sustain me. I have asked for a lock of hair from her pubic pastures, I have asked for a flowery ribbon that was hemmed on the shoreline of her panties like a ferry patiently sitting by the side of a small sea, I have asked for entire panties and I collected so many I made a collage and sacrificed libations of cum to it. Daily. I was that devoted. Drunk in desire. I have asked for a rotten molar that had fallen off her mouth and like a Malimbe I built a nest, a nest, a museums out of many molars belonging to different women. I have asked for a tidal wave of sweat gathering at the pool of her belly like a secret oasis in the desert, a Lazarus pool. The holy water ot zam zam. I have asked for a voice note because the way she pronounced her vowels completely vanquished me. I have asked to clench her hand in public because I wanted all the boys to see she was mine. The hand was my own not yours. I have asked to be entirely muffed between her thighs as we role played her giving birth to me. I cried and she cried. She pushed me. I enjoyed the pantomime, the play, the performance. Pushed me out of her unallegorical womb and very soon, out of her world for being, for being…….a weird ass freak.

I was fully armored so I never truly got to enjoy anything. I was a beautiful butterfly but the brutalities of life turned me into a blacksmith. I blossomed too quickly from a boy to a beast. Brass knuckles. Bare bones. A bantamweight dodging invincible blows, bloodthirsty and broken. I became part of a bustling hive, bandied about balenciaga boots and Burberry belts. A barista of beer bottles and blunts. From a butterfly to a belligerent brute. From a bird nest to a bullring.

I do not believe in god but sometimes I look up in the clouds, check to see if I would see the feet of any celestial dangling, drag him and give him serious death wounds. Then I will crucify him a second time. This time not on a cross. A cross is too lofty. I will nail him to as many matchsticks as possible and set them all on fire. No crown of thorns either. Just a really long encircled piece of shit, lumpy with a halo of flies around his nonchalant head.

A platter of your promises. I venture to the depth of dreams dressed in nothing but your lies. I wear your favorite curse words like capes "Look at your mates" "all you do is write on your status". "Your writing is not even good". "Why is your prick shaped like a French curve". You pull no punches. I pull up to the front of your house and bite the curb. You are chainsmoking again. I am masturbating with a belt. We both give each other a platter of promises that we never keep. I weep under the panoply. Your blood brothers threaten to slash me with a kinetic knife. Such kindness. Am I your hero when I wear your panties or do you love me more when I wear your curses like capes?

I want someone who would spend money on me for a change. I don’t want to spend any money on others anymore. I have done enough of it and it sucks. I start feeling like a cuckold tied to a lamppost watching another man totally dominate and consume his wife, I feel miserable, I feel swindled, that’s what giving feels like, it smells of foul play, charity of any kind wrecks my conscience. I don’t know the purpose of my kindness anymore so I want to be the recipient of yours. I want to see if I would become ungrateful. I want to see if I will turn around and laugh at the person who blessed and gave burden to my begging bowl.

Whenever I open my pot in the middle of the night to take meat, I wonder if my mother can hear that cymbal from where she is miles away. I wonder if she still senses my midnight mischief. I wonder if she still has that geodetic sense to feel my small shadow crawling under the cover of darkness to pilfer the cooked cadaver of chickens. I wonder if her clearing of throat would come walking through the half opened door.

Greeting a group of laggards on your street is not a remedy to getting robbed. Unfortunately. This logic only applies to the logical and hardened criminals are not. Buying a few people drinks or directly giving them money and expecting them not to harm you is believing that they are in fact principled. If they were, you wouldn't have to. If someone is lawless enough to consider robbing you, a one-time payment would not create any loyalty with such a lawless person. It will have the opposite intended effect. Appeasement does not work against those who see weakness as opportunity.

Obediently, I turn towards the grave. I turn towards time and take a last look at it. “You have been here for long haven't you?". Silently ticking. Watching several suns collapse. Seeing the voracious effort we expend to survive, to last long enough to make any meaningful contour in the ordinariness of the human life. Watching the decomposition of dreams rotting in the under-leaves of ambition. Watching a new crop of fools sprout sunward again. Humans retuse to lie down and die. Not I. Obediently, I turn towards the grave. I turn towards you.