Studying Abroad

Hemingway said write hard and fast about
what hurts so I’ll just say
because of this world I haven’t seen
a sky full of stars in so long,
my mother’s scent and skin and warmth
is but a faded memory and
I have become Gatsby staring at the green light
of my man’s harbor, but instead it’s
the blue-light of my phone screen
which keeps me awake as I cling, grasp, wrap
my essence around anything which
is not my own failure, loneliness, and frustration
I claw the pustules and then the scabs
down to the blood and then the dermis of
my face, my head aches because I have
scratched it until it is bleeding clear fluid,
am I developing another
symptom of the sad illness which already says
just go, just go, just go
it’ll all be better that way.