by Alaro Basit.
“I will save the feral in you some space to trot. I will mow it a lawn in my orchard & carve a seat out of your flaws. Side by side with your glitches I shall sit like I’ve always did —not to judge nor applaud you”, these were the words scurried from my buccal on the last eerie eve of October when my childhood friend confessed his queerness to me. At first, I assumed the MJ’s thriller costume is to be blamed for his gibbers, but when his supratrochlear vein which only bulges when he is either angry or sincere emerged, I knew better than to swerve towards the enthralments of Halloween. That night, a lump built a hive in my throat —a feigned assertion. Isn’t this the parody of the cook a stone nightmare grandma used to tell me? Isn’t this what it means to ride a friend on a rocking horse?
Alaro Basit (NGP IV) is a versatile creative who writes and rhymes from Nigeria. His works are/shortcoming on. Say hello to him on Twitter @alaro_basit.
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