Directions

I took the northern route again. Past the shipyard and the cranes. Where the fuel tanks hold their breath. And the orange lights just stain. The fog that settles on the docks. Where no one checks the time. Just load and unload and repeat. The same mechanical climb. They say the highway leads you home. But I've been circling these zones. Where the warehouses don't close. And the shifts just change their clothes. I'm following directions without trust. Every turn feels like a must. But the coordinates keep shifting in the dust. I'm following directions Without trust. The radio plays something low. That I can't name or place. Just frequencies that fill the cab. While I'm mapping out this space. Between the refinery and the bridge. Where the river bends from view. And the cargo ships are anchored there. With nothing else to do. They say the highway leads you home. But I've been circling these zones. Where the warehouses don't close. And the shifts just change their Clothes. I'm following directions without trust. Every turn feels like a must. But the coordinates keep shifting in the dust. I'm following directions Without trust. Maybe I should pull off here. Where the service road runs black. But the destination isn't clear. And there's no Turning back. I'm following directions without trust. Every turn feels like a must. But the coordinates keep shifting in the dust. I'm following directions Without trust. Past the shipyard and the cranes. Where the orange lights just stain.