Ill Lit - freeway

when misery found company
it quieted the stance.
loneliness reminded him,
“this was not our plan.”
jealousy beat sympathy
‘till he could bearly stand.
loyalty torched dignity,
burned him up and he ran.
there’s nothing worse than a radio edit.
girls’ fashion’s callous, the standard
is angry, blown-out conversations
about nothing at all with boys
who hover at the bar like vultures
indulging in a war.
agony told apathy,
“you ain’t even shit.
i used to hang with terror
when fear was still a kid.”
vengeance is circling back,
he’s gonna torture on demand.
my only hope is memory,
is someone will forget.
there’s nothing worse
than the chance you’re not taking,
people complaining couldn’t live.
without complaints, a public execution
is a solitary death. there’s a freeway
to memorize expense, in some ways
you never catch your breath.
but ignore it and we’ll see how bad it gets.
eventually we’ll meet again
with time more “worn” than “done”.
tried to be the better man, the best
i did was run. we may see our blood
shed in a storm of distant death.
attendance at your funeral,
there’s not a thing you don’t expect,
all by your lonesome, watching
bottles on the wall, broken down
by morning, pouring through the door.
if j.ever gets here, he’s gonna
sort you out. there’s a freeway
to memorize expense. in some ways
you never catch you breath.
but endurance is the one thing
you respect.