Sorry, My Name Is Not Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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