You walked until I couldn’t see your face anymore

From the strangers in our homes. To the strangers we call our friends. From the faceless forgotten lovers returning, to those we share our beds with.

It’s that unfamiliar feeling, that leaves you on the edge of madness. Needing to go through a list to interpret someone’s actions and inactions. Their words, spoken and unspoken. The desperation that some past knowledge can make these strangers familiar again.     


The more you care, the longer the list. Riddled with arguments you make on their behalf. Defences by you, for them. Excusing every negative with negated positives. The biggest item on the list for the religious is God. The married religious, I truly weep for.

When the list burns you, hope heals you. Until disappointment cuts you and the cycle repeats itself.


You give it time…you give them space. But time ages and space is empty. So you are left in the abyss with something old and lonely.

For a while you survive by feeding off the old to sustain the unrecognizable new.

That simply will not do. We have to keep creating new life. When we can’t…then it’s time to go on a dangerous quest of death and rebirth.


Then there are those times…when the stranger is you.

Not inspired by the famous Tamia song…might as well be though.


I’m layered and so is love

I’m layered and so is love


When we were young,

You liked the icing and played with the cherry

I was devoured and you had your fun

It was unhealthy and it was brief

For you did not know, I’m layered and so is love


There was more to you too

An undiscovered abundance I was glad to admire

I knew this from the beauty in your eyes

But I too wanted icing and cherry,

I was silly, and so were you


Now here we are,

Matured and experienced

Coated in regret,

Knowing of ignored potential

Content and helpless, I can feel your lament


Love’s losers we are

Still layered

Still love-lost

Always wanting

Never seeking



If you want something, ask for it!

So I’m sick. Eish! I’ve been avoiding social media for only 5 days and I’m already falling apart. Smh! Its sad really. This thing called social media is going to kill so many of us.

Anyways ya, I’m very ill, its the damn flu. I know I’ll catch it every now and then, but I’ll never get used to it. Its actually such a bore.
So in my sick state, I chose it necessary to sommer kill two birds with one stone. Reflect on me slightly average/wip life and catch up on current social/media events.

As for social media…boo! Its all shit! Did 5mins of that! Oh ya, #RIP Brown Dash! I’ll always remember you. And its not only coz you died in the same year as Whitney. Its all because of your naaaice beats.

As for reflections (I hate vanity but whatever) I realised that, one of the greatest most important lesson! Like this huge! Its simple and its honestly crucial to getting any satisfaction out of your existence on this crazy (I wish I had one word to describe this planet/world) world!


Like all round, in every sphere of your life! You have to ask for stuff! From a waiter giving you shitty service, to your lover giving you D-Grade loving! From your friends treating you badly, to your God failing you! Like proper all around! Demand the best out of yourself too. Ask for more! Always ask for more!

Some people will love you for it! Some people won’t. But imagine this; being loved for wanting what it due to you.

Not sure how to end this blog post. I’m not being lazy. I just don’t know what more to say. I’m not even feeling awkward about it.

I want to blog nutz all day!

Andrew and Pepper

I have another short story for you. This one isn’t as bad as the first one I told you. I was extra inspired that night.

This one time in varsity I knew these two kids. Pepper and Andrew. Andrew was allegedly abusive towards Pepper. I’m not one to believe rumours, since I do tend to start them. But there was some truth to this one.

This here rumour was confirmed by yours truly this one night when the whole res was drunk and I was unfortunately damaged when I for the first time in my young life witnessed “domestic/res violence”…amongst peers. Imagine!

I was coming back from my room. I was previously in Jabu’s corridor (where the best party was), but the music was less than satisfactory. So I decided to get a different kind of music. Something that would appeal to everyone else whose not from Durban.

Along the way I encountered Andrew and Pepper. Before I could say hello I witnessed Andrew push Pepper to the floor. She fell violently.

Andrew looked up and saw that I witnessed the whole thing…but for some or other reason, he pulled Pepper up and pushed her against the wall and insisted, pointing to her face practically accusing her, “you fell by yourself”. This was very odd to me since I was tipsy but very lucid. I suppose he thought I missed him pushing her. I paused and stood there for a while. Flash drive in one hand, vodka and sprite in the other.

Pepper was helpless shaking and sad. It broke my heart. I didn’t know what to do. She looked at me, as if to say “save me”. But Andrew was a huge biltong eating Eastern Cape boer, and I was tipsy and rushing back to the party with music and the promise of weed later. I looked at the both of them, dead in the eye, said “hey guys, lovely evening. You should come to Jabu’s room.” And I went on with my business. As I walked away I could feel the tension in that scene leave my shoulders. I was glad to say the least.

I didn’t tell anyone about this, seeing as I only spread rumours. The truth is stranger than fiction, and I don’t want to be THAT person spreading “the truth”.

The next Monday, Pepper was wearing shades at 8 o’clock in the morning. Which isn’t rare…but still very suspect. I, being the nonchalant person I am, coolly greeted her like nothing ever happened. I suppose she appreciated it as she responded in kind.

A few weeks later I found out that she had a miscarriage. It shocked me to the core of my soul. I kept hoping it didn’t happen on the same night I saw her in. But apparently it was a blessing in disguise.

They called it quits and both found happiness with other people. Ironically both ended up dating friends of mine.

A mosquito bit me

A mosquito bit me and she didn’t even care to say hello. Usually she greets me or rather warns me. Either way it’s not a polite curtsy. It’s a noisy unwelcomed approach. Yes she is a she, I once heard about her. Apparently she needs to feed on my young black sweet blood for the sake of her demon offspring who will then also grow to want to feed on me all over again.

I guess I should be happy you don’t carry disease, like you kin in other parts of the world. If only annoyance and disregard for sleep were recognised by WHO…it’s a pity.

I know where they all mate, lay their eggs and generally reside. It’s all outside my window, in my beautiful garden. They pay no rent and are the worst tenants in history.

Generations of the same family have been biting me, grandmothers, mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts etc. For their survival I’m up at two in the morning typing this shit up.

I read somewhere that mosquitoes tend to bite more attractive people as they’re drawn to them because they’re deemed to be more fertile. Good blood is better for the eggs. The one time I wish I was a menopausal man. I don’t even know how attractive I am. If I was visiting a home of less attractive people, who had as many mosquitoes, I’d be able to know my worth on the mozzie exchange. At this point to them I’m probably that whore who sleeps topless with tiny boxers…I’m easy…I’m a floozy.

A mosquito bit me tonight. She doesn’t care who I am. My revenge can only be murder. I could take this chance to be a chivalrous mozzie slayer. But I’d rather commit literary genocide on my blog. It’s time better spent, since I know they’ll be coming back for more tomorrow.

“God sends the meat, the devil sends the cooks”, by Thomas Deloney, had to be about mosquitoes.