Come One, Come All
It is an open invitation;
this game we play
of neither love nor desire.
A demand left open
in plain view.
A prowler’s paradise,
prey and predator.
No dress code, no time,
only place and untold rules
A guessing game of
stares, touch and
unfounded romance; stolen,
mutual and deceiving.
Nothing is left unrequited
for everything is purloined
from the burning flesh
of givers and takers alike.
An economy of relief and ennui
of frustration and sense
Nothing will be left unrequited
Unless no one will come
11:53 am • 14 July 2013
If ever you have decided to come back,
ride the train and look for me.
Pass by Sta. Cruz, and find yourself
in Escolta. I am there;
wandering in it’s ruins
I once dreamt that I was staring at El Hogar
Juan Luna Street by the river
and it just stared right back at me
as if it knew me as I shallowly know it’s depth
synced in a marriage of different aromas in the air
like the scent of a romantic nostalgia
and fish combined
Look for the Myna bird in Ongpin;
caged. In a drugstore
and ask him
he knows and keeps my fears
And if we didn’t meet in the eye
remember that I was here
and probably went home already
holding my takeouts for two
11:32 am • 13 July 2013 • 3 notes
Alter Ego's website is officially open!!!
Just in time for Valentine’s! Check out Dowee’s (dowee.tumblr.com) super fierce shop and go surprise your Valentine with a pair of lingerie to spice things up!
10:34 am • 31 January 2013
That certain whiff of the night
like the fading of writing
words in water
a taunting Delphic image of a face
(That icy smell of
silence whether of
distress or reconciliation
of sea breeze
whose skin dry
against my cheek
cueing the rain
and leave the world
cold and still)
must all be remembered
in sleep; perpetually
and wake us in its honest warmth
10:46 am • 15 January 2013
After Love by Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
1:10 pm • 21 October 2012