cutting great neck

i wrote a poem. maybe you like it. it's bad. it's about what i feel right now.

Hate Places

I feel like a fist had been
pushed through my throat
until my chest was heavy
with fingers poking out.
I wish I could have known
better. Everything seems to
move so fast. I want black
nights in San Diego. I want
the stars when we’re in a car.
I want to see people I know
I’ve known I will know for
these years. I want to see them
again. To have them. I don’t
care who they are. To say
goodbye as if it was the last
time. As if I’d never even
think of them again. But here
I am. Thinking about them. There
are so many, I keep thinking
names: and then I never stop.
I never stop thinking of people I
want to see again because it’s
the only thing I can do to
make myself miserable. I
used to think I hated suburbs. Now
I know. When you’re out of one
you start wanting it again.
And then I realize that I
can never hate a place. I
can never hate a place. I
can never hate a place. I
can only hate it when I’m not
there. And then, I cry.
I cry for the hours days weeks
months years I’ve wasted hating
San Diego. I cry for the hours days
years I haven’t hated San Diego.
I cry for the years it took me
to make a life, to build one out
of my own hands. I cry for
everyone and no one
at once. For all the families I’ve
left behind. For Israel. For Palo Alto.
For San Diego. For New York.
Please. I don’t want to talk about
crying anymore I just want home
and then I realize I don’t
even know where it is.

It's a horrrrible poem. I actually didn't cry over this. It's metaphorical. I actually almost never cry. Hahahahahahah. But it basically sums up what I'm feeling right now. In a bad way. Ahhh oh welll. I'll write about my experiences in NY later. and about my bday. and well that's all there was to everything. oh an flushing chinatown. and a