Five Word Sentences


Five words at a time.
Pounded out in short sentences.
Staccato, pointed, sharp, and quick.
If you think it’s hard.
Then you think too hard.
It’s about language and control.

Hold back on the emotion. Grasp each word in perfection. Going home is not easy. Seeing home decaying is harder. It is time for goodbye. Seeing people drown in moisture. The wet, not jus’ natures. There is an endless crying. Tears filling litter-filled gutters.

A log truck rolls by. It has no real destination. Chip trucks absent from roadways. Fresh wood chip odor gone. Fishing vessels remain at dock. Men working their jobless decks. Weeds and brush remain uncropped. Signage covered by high grass. Dead-fall tucked in between trees. No hand allowed to touch.

So many bodies moving about. But no one really working. Shopping carts hold every possession. Gaunt, fatigued faces, broken spirits. Lost in a smoky haze. A sullen glance of eye. A furtive look turned away. No one wants to know. Nobody cares to see it. But it is there, seen.

Seeing five train engines rotting. This is the full story. Rot is everywhere you look. There are few memories remaining. Those that are only were. Society and communities in distress. This is what we saw. Witnessing the deterioration of neighborhoods. People sleeping, living in streets. Drugs are their dominate feature. Government more interested in politics.

Yeah, those five train engines. Each stacked end to end. Decrepit, graying, rusted, abandoned hulks. There is no future here. But people keep moving in. Burdening the system even further. A Shangri-la draped in cobwebs. Beneath that, a black mold. And a persistent aching sadness. It adds to the chill. The overcast skies and fog. It’s all a tragic lie.

A heavy sadness covers this.
To know people, those loved.
Unwilling to change their lives.
Refusing to understand this poison.
That death overtakes all things.
Five word sentences, all’s left.

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