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Can I not human today, please?

Sometimes what we do for a living or the hobbies we indulge in frequently
have a way of defining the way we look at things in life. Sometimes we are aware of this and sometimes we aren’t. Sometimes it’s a good thing and sometimes it isn’t. I had both the fortune and misfortune of meeting someone a couple of days ago that taught me something about myself I wasn’t even aware of.

“You look lonely, like you would rather be anywhere else but,” he said. Continue reading

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The Deviants Rendezvous

John McConnell was a deviant. He was also a god.

I once saw him quench a cigarette butt in a Salvation Army donation box. With the same hand, I watched him guide a frail elderly woman across the deathly streets of Wellingdale.

I will be the first to admit that I was deeply enamored by the man’s enigmatic persona. But, was it he I was most curious about, or was it my own interest in his deviance I was looking to explore?

John was the wind that announced the tornado right before it struck. Some people would argue that he was the tornado itself. On those rare occasions, I had both the fortune and misfortune of stealthily feeling his pulse. On first contact, I felt the familiarity that came with interacting with a fellow human. It was a warm tinge, and though fleeting, I was just glad to be made aware of its existence. A few more seconds of willing my nerves into venturing into uncharted territory, I found exactly what I was looking for; John McConnell was me. Continue reading

The Frost on the September Leaves

The universe must have had a bone to chew with Ruth, because one morning, without warning, she had the misfortune of learning that the man she had loathed for over thirty years was undeserving of her contempt.

“I have to tell her the truth honey,” Sandra whispered to her husband.

It was forty-three minutes past the hour of 2 in the morning. No human in the Khumalo residence had any business being up at such an ungodly hour. As they would soon come to learn, there is always a price one has to pay for going against the laws of nature.

Ruth inched in closer to the kitchen door.  Her mother was sitting on a kitchen stool while her father stood a short distance away, his back resting against the fridge. Despite not hearing her name in her parent’s conversation, Ruth knew they were fighting about her. It was all they seemed to do since she announced her wedding date, three weeks ago. With only two days to I do, there were a lot of seemingly don’t-whisperings between her parents she desperately needed to get to the bottom of. Continue reading

On Lucifer’s Wings of Love

A blank canvas always gives the painter an illusion of innocence

But there are voices in the stern silence of the dark night if you listen closely

The Hugo Boss stained ambience clandestinely

Musks the stench of yet another bleeding heart

They probably should have never said hello

Along Hallowed hallways paved on promises of everlasting lust

These lilac scented lies have brought you a beautiful truth laced in fiction

They’ll have you thinking dreams come true on Louis Vuitton sheets spread out on huge Victorian beds in rooms whose vintage walls have bounced off more of Jezebel’s echoes of ecstasy than any Chinese brothel in the capital

I thought she knew, that the devil was the most beautiful angel ever created.

Echoes of Betrayal – 2019 Release

I’m so excited to finally announce the publication of my very first novel Echoes of Betrayal in 2019. I’ve had such a crazy but awesome time working towards ensuring that the book finally comes to life. Finally, it’s going to be here soon!

Do look out for more news about dates, book launch, and where you can purchase the book in the coming weeks and months leading to March.

Continue reading

will you be my awfully wedded wife?

Apparently, I am a married man now.

I met Tawanda when I was fifteen beers high and six feet deep into sin. That’s what my friends tell me, but I lost count somewhere around five, or was it six…or seven?

I like Tawanda very much. A woman whose beauty comes to life whenever my eyelids are barely able to themselves up, I wish I knew what her last name is. Her image is ever so fleeting, but it is a constant I crave as if my life depends on it. Tawanda, my demon in shiny Brazilian hair. Continue reading