not class nor context or easily explained,
not mother nurturing of the young but stifling
in her needs,
and deals with the hunger
by offering a ****
and trauma as indulgence,
and music as external landscape
while hearing the ****** cry of class,
of your birth an ear for the literate
as an undercurrent,
and trauma as indulgence,
sick of one's own
*******, never comfortable,
running fast as you can
not from anything in particular,
just everything.