Let’s get a Brazilian.

In moments of quietness, I’ll alleviate such sordid space by filling it with faces. These faces appear out of nowhere, a variety of shapes, attractiveness, mood and colour. Some may mock the cam chat phenomenon but for me and thousands of others it bears a chance to escape and with little repercussions in comparison to meeting somebody in person. I hide myself, even from my wide social circle who within my existence are a means to share good times in our holy nightclubbing grounds. These cam chats pose an opportunity for somebody as elusive as me to communicate with others, if not for actual conversation then at least for a little ego boost. During such times, I’ve made a few friends of which are dotted around the globe – it makes the world feel like a much smaller place. On one occasion, I met this Brazilian boy. It’s strange how the heart desires such unfathomable things, with a mind as analytical as mind, a good steady solid head on my shoulders, the heart still surpasses any straightforward logic. 


I sigh for that view from your window, 
it’s paradise to my foreigner eyes.
A postcard; I wish I was there too. 
I’m forbidden to lick the fruit that hangs
so fresh in your flourishing garden;
sweetness that seeps, bitter to taste. 
How I long to sample 
the tropics of your beached space,
drive along your skin, 
take a pit stop, 
photograph with my tongue every trace. 
I’d drive you anywhere, 
destination happiness 
via the route of amour. 
Just rest your head upon my shoulder, 
you can stay for as long as I can keep, 
and not a second more. 

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