when you're waiting for momentum it seems like you're at the end of a bread line
they'll get to you eventually but will there be anything left?
can't take the handouts that unfamiliars give
though they would most likely be enough
to keep you going and keep you fed
you're not used to their hands
plus pride is such a wicked mother
from birth you're taught to love her and hold her close
they never tell you she will hold you down and back
at just the moment when you need mothering
at the time just before collapse- the great collapse
but you hold tight to her
and though we're all in this holey boat together we see not
see not each other as comrades as sisters or brothers parents or lovers
just more easy competition, that's how our mother guides us
we are the proud, the unsinkable, the educated, the infallible-
we are doomed
we are in need
we are blind
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