Some times, some places

Have a scent, leave traces

Long sleeping thoughts awaken my brain

Thoughts from which I should refrain

Yet they hover round the perimeter

When I’m feeling at my most insecure

Finding their way to top of mind

Thoughts of you are what I find

I wish that wishes made them go

You’re from too far gone I know

I don’t want to remember can’t you see

And yet your image hijacks me

This mist of water in the air

Kisses my face, dampens my hair

I reach for your hand from memory

Though you’re nowhere near that I can see

Still you haunt the corners of my deepest dreams

I’ve never escaped your hold it seems

Unfinished business you taunt me so

If you’ll never come back please…

Let me go

~ kie

28 September 2014

Petites Pensées

That long-ago goodbye…

There were things I needed to know
And so many ways I needed to grow

Saying goodbye was taking a chance
Maybe a little happenstance

So I kept this space for you locked up tight in my heart
‘Cause I always hoped that goodbye would become a new start

~ kei
26 January 2014


Talking to you has been like… what? It’s like you’ve dropped a diamond-tipped stylus into the grooves of my brain.

I was still finding my music when we met, not a Stones girl yet… Oh, but you have no idea how many Divinyls moments you caused. Cause. I could listen to this all night. On repeat. You were so sweet… An A+ honour roll boy with a streak of sensuality that was metres deep. Singing to me…

Sheena Is A Punk Rocker, good girl, Daddy’s daughter.

Round and round my thoughts go… this is one of my favourite songs. Anyone else listening to this could tell by the pops and crackles… That melody though? Still clear as HD, gets right inside to the core of me, makes my blood sing and I can’t help but dance. You are like fucking electricity. I’m powered up, spinning like 33 1/3 rpms. On my iPhone.

Memories, just memories, but I still shiver with Antici… pation.

I was your Wilhemina Venom and you were my Peter Gunn. Working on a case, maybe just this basketcase. Damn! You look fine in a hat but it was the brain underneath that was so goddamn sexy. Three miles of legs, hey football boy, Dance This Mess Around.

Moves like Jagger, smoother, better. Do you ever Picture My Face?

When I think about you, it’s music. It’s music and sex and you really were Like A Hurricane, fucked like a record… two sides,  flip me over, extended play… do you think those residence walls still echo with our voices? No food, just drinking, music, sex… That stylus is skipping now; the repeat is damn fine, do it again. I swear I can still feel you, your back wet with sweat, the only thing keeping us together were my ankles round your neck…

My Punk Rock King, my skinny college boy dream…

You were everything I wanted but it wasn’t meant to be… Who’s the fucking moron who orchestrated you crossing my path when I wasn’t ready? There’s that pop and crackle again, a shift into Lips Like Sugar and just like any favourite tune… My synapses fire under that diamond-tipped stylus and I’m lost in the revolutions, the contortions and contusions…

I’m your Wilhemina Venom and you’re my Peter Gunn.

~ kei
21 December 2013