Satellite Kid

Sometimes I feel like I am dying inside.

Once upon a time Tomas thought to himself, sitting here used to be like looking down on heaven. Like a mirror reflecting the night sky, the street lights of Stoke laid out before him. And it was a night just like tonight when he’d first met her at a party for someone neither of them knew, in one of the seedy backstreet nightclubs that punctuated Newcastle nightlife. The DJ had disappeared, probably to hang himself in the cloak room and “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was being played, badly by some of their year. He’d found himself dancing, probably the result of one too many snakebite and blacks, Tomas never danced and that’s when he found himself jumping up and down next to the girl with the enigmatic smile.

It’s strange what you remember, major events pass you by yet the most minute detail can stay lodged in your memories for an eternity. Tomas couldn’t remember what they talked about that night but there on Hartshill bank he could still see her in that little red cardigan she always wore and as they walked home arm in arm, stopping to kiss under each and every street light, he could still remember the old blue coat with white and blue stripes in its hood.

You, you’re the best thing in my life, yeah,

Come on, you, oh, won’t you be my wife.

From somewhere back up the hill Tomas heard a car pull up in the car park and he allowed himself a smile as he pictured two young lovers slowly becoming entwined on the back seat of their Ford Escort. Once upon a time that had been him and his Satellite Kid, their nightly assignations here on top of the world and some nights they had even found time to talk.

Finishing off the last dregs from the bottle of vodka by his side Tomas realised it was those chats which he missed the most. How they had talked about their future and argued about his past and how once they had even promised to get married as soon as they had both finished university.

This could be tragic or sad

But that’s the way life is.

“Why did I do it?” Throwing the bottle down the hill Tomas cursed himself. “I’m a fucking idiot.” Wiping the tears which had begun to form at the corners of his eyes he contemplated all which he had thrown away.

If only he could relive one moment, take back a moment of stupidity or simply have been man enough to ignore the advances of a temptress who’d been chasing him all night, if only. Not because he’d lost his Satellite Kid, he’d never realised how much he didn’t deserve her before last night, no. It was the look on her face when she’d caught them together that had broken his heart and only now when all was lost had Tomas truly understood. The Satellite Kid was the love of his life.

When I’m with you a bottle is just fine.

Picking up the second bottle of vodka Tomas let his head fall back against the turf of Hartshill bank, life, his life it seemed was over. True, in the morning he knew it had to continue but it would never be the same. Not now, now that he had lost his Satellite Kid.

The Dance

A long held secret, a hidden desire shrouded as best as I can from,

The relentless scrutiny of harridan’s who chase me no matter what I do.

Burning inside questions best left unanswered, floundering I face,

A realisation maybe dreams were never destined to become true.

So I jump to the dance take part in a masquerade, what else is,

There to do but to dance and to laugh with the girl in the tartan skirt.

With a smile on her lips parted to suggest the promise of an embrace,

For a night I can lie back and watch as she erases the hurt.

A lifetime spent as a man weighed down burdened from the outset,

By a reputation built upon an upbringing littered with mistakes.

The kiss for tomorrow always a prelude to the dance in the dark,

Where lovers collide and fight with each other for what they can take.

Repetition is a pattern played over and over without pause or respite,

Choices are forfeit as the game gathers pace and you find you can not hide.

The smell of their perfume lingers different but always the same,

As you look at the girl, another face on the pillow, asleep by your side.

Longing for someone to break the monotony of the endless dance,

Without a hope of a place you will ever call your home.

Love you believed an illusion created an antidote to the dance,

But with no dance there’s no love and without love aren’t we all alone?

Della

“Well that wasn’t what I expected!”

“Is that a good thing?” Tomas asked hesitantly as he put on his jeans. “I mean that is a good thing right?”

“Sure!”

“Sure?” Hearing the uncertainty in Della’s voice Tomas turned. “You really know how to make someone feel good about themselves,” he told her. “I thought we were friends?”

“We are and that’s why I guess it felt so weird.”

“Weird! I didn’t feel weird.”

“Not a little bit?” Della asked with that look one her face she was always used when she knew she was right. “We’ve been friends ever since we were at Infants together and I guess I always thought of you as like a brother only I didn’t realise it until today, until you know?”

“Until you slept with your brother!”

“You know what I mean, it just didn’t feel right. Did it?” Della asked and Tomas realised yet again she was making sense even though some part of him didn’t want her to.

“I guess. It did seem a little strange but I just thought that was because of the build up. I mean both our parents have been trying to get us together since forever. I guess my mum will be happy.”

“You’re going to tell her!”

Despite himself Tomas couldn’t help but laugh at the look of horror on Della’s face, “no don’t worry it’d screw her up. Half of her would want to throw a party at the town hall whilst the rest of her would be dragging me to church to beg forgiveness for my sins.” Seeing the smile creep across Della’s face he added “and don’t think you’d get away with it she’d drag you to church too. You know maybe it would be worth it just to see if the church fell down as you walked through the doors.”

“Not a chance I’m not scared of your mum,” Tomas raised an eyebrow and Della had to smile. “OK so maybe I am but if your mum found out that means she’d tell mine and Dad would be down at the church with us booking the vicar for the wedding. You’ve gone white!” She commented as she laughed at the expression on Tomas’ face.

“Do you blame me? Do you want to get married now?”

“No and I guess tonight’s proven one thing.”

“What?”

“Our parents are wrong. We’re not destined or made for each other. We’re friends and I guess that’s all we’ll ever be.”

“Just friends?” Asked Tomas feeling mischievous “I thought that I was like a brother to you or is just that when we were doing you know?” Dodging the pillow Della aimed at his head Tomas jumped off the bed and backed away towards the door “I never thought you thought about Richard like that. Ow!” He exclaimed as Della managed to connect with the tissue box from her bedside table and then he had to fight for his life as Della reached him and grabbed hold of a pillow.

Later as Della walked him home Tomas took hold of her hand and was pleased to find she didn’t pull it away, “do you think we can go back to how it was before?” He asked.

Squeezing his hand Della smiled lovingly at him, “I think it already has,” she told him. “We made a mistake that’s all and friends forgive each other mistakes don’t they?”

“I love you,” Tomas told Della “Its just a shame I don’t love you in that way, we’ve got everything else.”

“I know,” Della whispered as she leant forward to kiss him but Tomas pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

 
“I just want to make sure you’re going to kiss me as a friend. Remember I’m not family. Ow what was that for?” 

I Believe(d) You

I fail to understand, simply fail, what society, no me, will win if we insist,

Must everything be judged, documented, a place be given on a list,

Am I to watch? Or is it essential viewing? Who should I listen to?

So many voices, screaming, can’t you hear them? Who should I be listening to?

Voices, crying, calling out in black and white across the page,

“I’ve seen the light” I know the truth” “I understand, feed my rage”

“I saw the band, they are the future” “They’ll blow your mind, I promise you”

“We can shape the world, to my dreams if you’ll listen. I am the truth.”

So I watch, wait eagerly, for Fearne a sense of anticipation,

Then I ask where? And feel abashed when you call for patience.

“Stupendous” “Brilliant” “Memorising” “The Greatest Actress Alive”

I even read one review “Like being shot with a Magnum Forty Five”

Should I have watched them all, your words they draw me in,

Would I have left disappointed? Would you care about my opinion?

My thoughts, my views, I understand it’s only a limited critique,

Of a man lacking suitably, who has, who has to work for his meal each week,

You wrote, I read and disregarded, I know I never should have gone,

And I smiled, I know I shouldn’t, like the millions who were also wrong,

We laughed, we cried, and at the end we cheered, some even doubted you,

Were you happy, broken hearted, were you watching when you wrote your review?

In pubs across the land we read the papers and some regurgitate the thoughts,

Of views written down by hacks obsessed by their own self important words,

Who tell their readers, who tell their friends, who tell the world,

The one true view, your view, of Madonna or the next bond girl.

And they listen, they have no choice but to listen you stopped them thinking for themselves.

Too many voices, so many voices, many voices each promising to help,

How to vote, What to eat, what film to see, how to spend our hard earned wage.

But what happens if we believe, delegate decisions to words written on a page,

   What you write can influence say drugs are good and what is wrong with happy slapping?

We believe, we delegate and soon lose control of our actions.

You take control, we lose control and we never even realised,

And when we wake one winter morning what are we to do?

When we realise you forgot to tell us what to think.