Flying J

Memories drove towards me like an eighteen wheeler when I got your message,

You and your cruelty,

Nightmare Before Christmas tattoos,

You were my nightmare,

Full steam, pissing smoke from both stacks,

Like an eighteen wheeler leaving that Flying J,

Nicotine, marijuana smoke, and cheap beer stained the kitchen walls,

Felon dads, losing teeth, and paycheck to paycheck,

That house was hell, best as I have ever known it.

Hell was a house in Englewood Colorado,

I can still hear your slurred bullshit,

I can see the void behind your eyes,

Feel the sting of your life.

I am still scared of you.

“Hey man, I miss you, how have you been?

I’m still up to the same stuff, yeah still in Denver,

My son is fine, haven’t seen him since Christmas,

His mom is a bitch,

I am down in California, supposed to leave today,

But my truck is broken down,”

Your truck was always fucked up.

Back then, both of our cocaine noses,

Made us into clowns,

As I thought you could help me,

As you thought I could help you,

Cinnamon flavored whiskey,

Brought the Devil out,

And he was welcome to stay.

I don’t know how to tell you,

That I still remember,

That old farmer with giant hands,

Hands the size of God’s,

Who sold amphetamines, who kept us up,

For nights on end.

The blowtorch and glass,

The sorrow and insanity,

I don’t know how to tell myself now,

I was just trying to survive.

I don’t know how to tell you,

That I survived.

A brief exchange, words that are so weak,

Weak in the way I used to be,

I had no worth then, I think you always knew that,

I think you still know that.

I want to grab a beer with you, I really do,

Want to be friends again, talk that same shit,

I want to grab fire and feel it as cold,

You want to ignore the smoldering crater,

My hate is a giant, and it steps on you,

It crushes me, and everyone else I know,

My justification is found in his claws, as he tears you apart,

My hate drove me from my home and into your arms,

My hate makes me weak in a way you know.

As you cross state lines, I cross my heart,

And hope to die,

And promise to try and forgive you,

I want to believe that someday you will change,

But habits formed for many years are seldom forgot,

Just like you and your booze,

And me with my hate.

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