Haves and Have NotsWeapons of Want desire needs,
Wanting what the Have Nots have,
Having what the Have Nots want,
Fulfilling an empty need,
Leaving the needy empty,
As the Haves have always had.
Well Road I've never lived in this town. It must be why the people ignore me and why my family is distant. Every time I visit my family something changes. Sometimes it's small, other times it's dramatically large-scale, but a few things always remain the same.
They must not know me. The faces and places change with every visit, and yet I know them. Could it be my perception?
Some things don't change, or at least I don't notice it. I realized this as I drove down Well Road; the main street of this town. It's a unique road because the asphalt is colored blue, it's a one way road, and is the only road in and out of town.
The town is incomplete, and so are its people, but the blue road extends for miles. Sections of the town don't exist until you just drive up to them, the town and the people seem to gain power the deeper I drive in.
Most of the faces are forgettable; few are engraved into the unchanging stone of the town.
Lamplight An imprint of me stretched across the room. The light from behind wanted nothing more to do with me. From the chair in the corner she pierced my shadow with her eyes; darkness did not dare stand in her way. She was still in her work clothes as she sat there with her legs crossed, staring at me.
Darkness billowed towards me as I shut the door. The solitary lamp next to her shone only on the open book she was holding. It dared not shine on either of our faces; mine out of shame, and hers out of fear.
"We can work this out!" I said without invitation.
Her eyes dropped back to the book. They moved over the last paragraph. She flipped to the final page.
As if I were SlangAs if I were slang, or some skewed definition,
I have been placed in this spacious intermission.
Everything unlike me is crashing on my niche,
My entire universe is lost in their stitch.
As if I were alone due to my disposition,
My mind races over the slightest premonition.