Im not very good with goodbyes,

This one is for the school boys and the school girls,

And for the English teacher who lived.

The empty air around the Eiffel tower was stagnant,

I could feel it sticking to my skin,

and strangling my neighbors dog.

Last night I cut my wrist,

I cut my wrist and bled words from my mouth,

I told her how much I wanted to be with her,

and why I stopped writing in all CAPS.

She put out her cigarette with a handful of dreams,

and threw them into the sand.

It caught the attention of that eerie homeless,

and he screamed.

Something about a crystal ball,

something about the Eiffel tower being made half of glass,

and half of a cup of brandy.

He said that in the 1920's

we didn't have to pretend,

we could all go to the carnival,

an ride the rides.

we didn't have to drink to keep friends,

he was talking about her,

and even though her cheeks were that rosy,

and she didn't talk very much she had magic powers.

This girl, she was wearing a dress 

and was covered head to toe in mini chandeliers,

she stood on a tower of non existent greatness.

she said she had dreams of the coast,

driving up and down,

city to city.

Only stopping to pick up tourist,

who had finally found out what it meant to be alive.

people who came to Paris for Paris,

and stayed because they had other places to go,

but wanted to keep the words draining from a broken heart,

into the leather soles of there shoes.

And this is me,

desperately veering from side to side,

sightless, mindless, and caring for nothingness 

on this pathway to poverty and social defeat.

And this is me,

and the tourist I met,

and the Parisians that fed me until I couldn't be fuller.

And for Kyle Nelson,

The Prince of Paris,

the one man on earth who can teach creativity,

who can force me and my pen to create words,

and worlds, and Alaska, and Helen.

The one man who can make teenage boys cry for good reasons,

and make certain 17 year old girls show up to class on time,

can make you realize its OK to be up at 2:47 AM,

as long as you have a pen and blank spot on your arm to write.

When I grow up I want to be just like my Dad

I want to be just like Kyle Nelson,

Because he cares too much,

and didn't kill himself when he could've,

always spoke for himself,

even if its 3 AM,

when a Tweet would do,

because his wife wont listen,

and his heart needs a rest.

This is for Kyle Nelson,

Because he really did change my life.

 

 

Thank you for everything Nelson,

-Tim Thompson

Because we cant know everything,

I have dreams,
of Paris, of Alaska, and of Helen.


I care about certain things to the point of extremely high anxiety,
and other things, I can ignore, pretend they dont exhist.
Usually they are thing I should care about, it scares me.


If you really knew me, you would know that I have been on a desperate venture to find neverland, and Im failing.


Theres this girl, I cant stop thinking about her, and I want to get this out towards the beginning, so here we go.
I just want to kiss you.


If you really knew me, you would know that as soon as I picked up this pen, every word, no matter how brilliant, poetic, cliche, unoriginal, brilliant, whatever. They all left me.


If you really knew me you would know that Im after honesty, and not much else.


If you really knew me you would know that my heart fell out of my chest long ago, and  I cant find it.


If you really knew me you would know that the Phantom of my basement is alot more convincing than my parents.
I dont know how much I like that.


If you really knew me, you would know that im never happy with the seasons,


when its spring I want fall,
when its summer I want fall,
when its winter I want fall,


And when it is fall, I fall.




If you really knew me, you would know that I spent a whole week hunting from a canoe,And I never left my house.


If you really knew me you would know that im sick of falling for every girl with curls and a sundress.


If you really knew me, you would know that Helen matters more to me than even my family.
which is ok, because I finally found out "who" she is.


If you really knew me you would know that I depend more on my friends, and empty film cameras, than God and I focus more on nothingness and nature, and I dont care what my parents say nearly as much as I should.


If you really knew me, youd know that im perfectly happy with who I am,
But all I want is to change.


For better or for worse.


Dear Perfection,
Your never going to happen. 
Please stop sleeping with all my friends.
love,
nom

Dear Helen,

Im sorry  that Ive been fake.

Im sorry, that I don't know you as well as I thought.

Because If you choke on fake tears, One day you'll wake up drowning.

Burn holes in my chest,
and drip paint down my face.

whoever you once were ran away,
and took the silence with them.

Silence left, and took everything with it.

This just might be, the last letter I ever write to Helen. I hope this is the last letter I ever wright to Helen.

I can still smell the burning cigarette on my skin,
But it isnt enough.
I will never be convinced,
that you held me so tight.


Today it was 84 degrees outside,
you and I were supposed to go on a picknick in the park.
I wanted to hold your hand,
and all you could do was hand me you cigarettes.
And when you called me on the phone today I could sware I never felt so many razors cut my wrists.

You talked about the first time we smoked together
and your trip to Alaska,
And thats when I hung up.

Helen,
If you could please stop treating me like this that would be great,
because I dont really care if he has a new motorcycle,
or tea recipe I should try.

I care about you,
your ash stained fingers,
and that polaroid we took together last fall.

I knew you could tell something was on my mind,
Darling dont worry,
really its nothing,

Please dont worry about me,
my note book,
or the crystalized tears left inside.

Darling when Im without you,
I cant think of metaphors and other creative things,
just this window,
and the tears that are dripping down the sides.

And Helen I know this all sounds depressing,
But please forgive me,
Because the clouds are truly beautiful today,
and that noose you tied
will top even the dullest knife
I stab into my chest.

Helen I really think that my depression,
and your anorexia would go well together.


We could move to france with eachother,
buy a small house,
fall asleep to silent movies,
and wake up to the sound of vespa scooters,
and the smell of fresh baked bread.

we could watch live music at small cafes,
and take lomographs of the Eiffel Tower.
Our lives would be filled with nothing that matters,
and everything we cared about.

Helen,
I called that old friend of your,
the one we ran into downtown,
the one with the boots.

When she picked me up,
I could smell vodka on her breath.

I remember that,
and we had a lovely dinner.

And now,
Im in the back of a motel,
in some city I dont even know the name of,
and im writing you these letters on the back of napkins.

Helen its 3 AM,
and that black crow over there
has the prettiest feathers ive ever seen,

I just wish you were here to see.

I think quite possibly your heart weighs more than the rest of your body, and trust me... Its not because its made of gold.

Blue Skies,

Green Grass,

Depressed Teenagers,

Highschool Love,

Love songs,
Love,
Love,
Love....


Maybe he'll get the girl in the end,

Or maybe he'll get in a car crash next week,
and the things he said to her last night,
will die along with him.

#Dishonesty