My latest short narrative of intimate confessions is Sorry, My Name Is Not Fyodor Dostoyevsky and restricted to adults only. It contains the romantic and erotic affairs of a Nigerian philosopher and lover.

I am posting the first paragraph for general readers. But you have to read the rest where it is available on
http://www.blogwonga.com/blogwonga/read_article/8

When the Honeymoon is Over

I am sitting here on the wc seat thinking aloud.
I have no father and I have no mother.
They are dead. Long dead.
And I am not married and no child.
No. I am not scared of marriage.
I love women as I loved my mother.
May her peaceful soul rest in peace.
She was one of a kind. My own Mother Theresa.
Women are not the problems in this world.
Of course the devil is not a woman.
Jezebel was a woman?
Because King Ahab was a coward and a fool and he was not man enough to discipline the stubborn wife.
This is not why I am still here in the closet.
But, I am bothered by so many existential issues that we often misunderstand and that is why I want to pass them out. And I have a deodorant here just in case it begins to stink.
My festering thorns are pricking my heart and soul.
I am speaking from the closet of my heart.
Just reason with me for a moment, please.

For more
http://www.blogwonga.com/blogwonga/read_article/8