If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it probably is

An elephant.
Your Gentle Gazes creep around these walls, asphyxiating me with worshiping eyes.
I’ve extended a vision into the daunting realms of possibility. I’m chewing you over. Deciphering code. 01010111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101100 01100001 01110011 01110100 00111111
Promises and wandering roses. Strangling each other with thoughts of ivy. Slowly griping my throat. I choke on our realism.


Sou Bruxa.
Sou menina.
Sou repugnante e repulsiva.

Shellac coated hands but still drips run down and human becomes too human. Wound and bound, open and close slowly. Pull back, jilt and peer. Hide behind tobacco barriers. Stay away from me.
Realise without verbalising. We are too human, more so than those who solve, embrace, feel and use their own philosophies without dread. Those who make. Not we who speak.
A journey of cerebral inquisition leads to infallible learnings of who I am and what you do. Soul gazing in Io’s lava lakes with an abundance of ineptitude that can only come from damaged hearts and demotivated ambition. Mediocre at best but remain confident and talk as any good genius would. I will aim for the unattainable, lest I settle for this stagnant mediocrity.
But the smell is lingering here in the L shaped room. Many possible solutions have been developed. They have culminated in a paradox of exhilaration and ennui, a parallel of desire and hate.
A feast for the senses… your soft voice, slow hands. Devour me. Blood runs dry when my mouth is empty. Bruised arms, I’ve clutched too hard.
I have a fever. Sweating out every last drop of your existence. I’m starved. Longing to smell your musty glistening hair.
Standing in the darkened shadows of the stairs, I can still see you. On the painful days, I rock back and forth, shaking the bed with my toes. The tremors comfort my whirling thoughts.
I remember at that time, when the clouds were as heavy with rain as my eyes were with tears, my star and I stood at the bridge and remembered that when I was younger I had played a game. My star threw stones into the river of which my salty tears held up the branches; those branches and those stones had both floated back when I was happy and without incessant curiosity. But today, as I stopped to think about how it was possible those heavy stones were able to float, I looked at one as I threw it in. It sank. Dreams were only possible when I believed. Lonely are the people that cried on the bridge of this river before I, the tears had filled the embankment and made it a river. But those tears glistened, shining with hope. I ask my tears, why have I broken again? Go and join your friends. There will be more to follow, even if it causes this river to swell and overflow. There used to be an overflow of something different in my life… my star called my name. ‘Don’t listen to the world, there are too many questions. Are you crying yet?’ My star shone in the sky tonight and my tears stopped. The stone I had dropped earlier rose up as the moon shone in my smile. The reflection was beautiful just like the glistening hope that carried my stone.
Just as the sun shines through my window I hear a voice of gold, smoothly calling my name as if the owner were the sun itself. I feel the bite of my love for you curl my stomach and for a while I may even stop thinking.
The skin that you so naively possess is made of creamy ocean breezes that evoke thoughts that the world would be nothing without you. Your voice is that of the tropics so exotic and melodic every time you speak. That aniseed mouth of yours is so perfect and soft.
I was searching for you before I even knew it myself, but the seas sought you out and now I’m not prepared to let you go back out with the tide. Did I ever tell you I would crumble like the pantheon if you left? I’m sorry to say I would not be rational.
But while I wait for that day with fierce eyes half closed, I know that my love will lead the blind world by example. You are the hottest fire that makes me persist and I am the highest flame reaching to your soul. Perhaps too forceful at times but you need a push in the right direction.
You take the lead and I’ll always follow your footsteps. It’s the inevitable road of discovery of which we can travel free. I will float over strawberry sweet clouds with you as my companion and I’ll never be without you because you’re one memory that would never die.
Melancholic music resonates around these four walls. You rescued me when I was dying, watered me when I was wilting and comforted me as I slept. So move your heavy legs and wrap me up and I’ll talk to you in my voice of silver.

Helogale parvula; versão Português

Galera Velha Pulo _______ Old guy leaps
Pagavel Luar, Olhe! ______ Payable moonlight, look!
Vagar, pelo Lua, Lhe _____ For he wanders the moon
Opala Gula, Lhe Ver _____ Opal Gula, he sees

Para Gula Leve Lho _______ To Gula, take him
Para lhe, Luva Gelo ______ Give him an ice glove
Agulha Levar Pelo, _______ Bring on the needle,
Repago Velha Lula! _______ Old repaid Lula!

Lula, Pegar Ovelha _______ Lula, catching sheep
Geral Ovelha, lupa _______ General Sheep, magnifier
O pelve, gralha, lua _____ The pelvis, crow, moon
Ovelha Leal, Purga _______ Faithful sheep, purge.

Helogale parvula

Alpha Ovular Glee
Ha! Plague all over!
Leave Laugh Polar
A Lavage Hell Pour.

A gale; vapour hell,
Upheaval allegro
A vaguer alp. Hello!
Parallel. Ah, vogue.

Hello Guava. Leper?
Aloha Vulgar Peel!
laugh, parole Veal.
oh, all grave plea...
Lost, but never to be found. It didn't exist at all. Can it be made? Shared and improved? Slowly grown by taste and touch, feel and learning?

Touching grooves with oily fingertips, seek out pleasure and reason. Necessity beckons. Find a mould in which to curl up inside and rise like a bountiful cake. When done, slip out easily, confident and beautiful. A sight to be seen, opportunity and hot presence, a languishing dough has transformed into souffléed glory.

It still won't exist. It can't be grown. It won't transcend across hot smoked deserts and wild baron plains to find its host.

There is a way to create. Do not force. Do not wait. Hope may offer itself, but if it is inherently lost due to an emptiness from the start. It cannot be found.
Trussed up in white whale bone,
hold in your sickness, gently now, stand tall
Don't look away.