When you lose someone you love, a part of you is lost. I have seen it in my short illustrious career in the police’s Special Crimes Unit. Every time I tell someone that their lover, spouse, child, or parent is dead, I watch them shatter before me. Some of them vent their anger on me, or on the police, the government. In another life, I must have been the Angel of Sorrow.
Growing up, my bedroom would be invaded by phantoms, battalions of my father’s doppelgangers that besieged the whole room and stood guard over me like a besieged city and platoons of my mother’s ghosts; I guess her soul had never rested in peace.
A month after breaking my heart alongside my virginity, the man responsible for the crime committed the same heinous act with my younger sister. We were living in Mombasa at the time, on a beach house at the very edge of the Indian Ocean overlooking its warm waters.
When God wanted to punish me, He sent me to my boyfriend. When the Devil wanted to tempt me, he sent my boyfriend away.
I know the Gay Killer will never be caught. I pray for the killer daily to do it again and again. It’s time men got what’s coming to them.
I know the Gay Killer will never be caught because I am the Gay Killer.
I was beatified the same day Sister Irene ‘Nyaatha’ Stefani became ‘Blessed’. While Blessed Irene Stefani began her journey to sainthood, I began mine to slut-hood. The only thing I share with Blessed Irene Stefani is Roman Catholicism and seven-frilled habits.
I have big, wide and beautiful/lovely/lustrous eyes, like pearls, as the Quran says in Surat Al-Wāqi`ah 56:22 – 23. My breasts are round and firm. And I am a houri (virgin). I am what martyrs for Allah will get in paradise.
There is an acute shortage of virgins over here, guys. The forces of demand and supply are really fighting, and I don’t think the war will end any time soon. And who lied to you there are virgins over here anyway?
Don’t die a virgin, terrorists are waiting for you in heaven.
I am every terrorist’s wet-dream girl. I have big, wide and beautiful/lovely/lustrous eyes, like pearls, just the way the Quran says in Surat Al-Wāqi`ah 56:22 – 23. I am tall, baby-faced (what the Hadith calls eternally young), complexion like that of Samantha Lewthwaite the terroristess, voluptuous and full-breasted. My boobs are large, round and not inclined to hang.
My wife and I grew apart long before we were married, around the same time I gave up trying to make it work for us. Over the years, the Valley has become Rift. Though, we share the bed, the matrimonial one. I don’t know her as much as I know the beautiful one I always dream of being with who is not yet born.
For you to know how much I love you, I realize, the love I have for you has to die. Not that love for another will grow, or grows, in me. No. I said forever. Forever is how long I will love you.
According to the Nairobi urban dictionary, I am a socialite: a young beautiful woman with tantalizing titties (anterior), big ass (posterior) and no brains.
