Words fall, sticking fast to my feet – pieces of double-sided stickiness.
I try to pull them off, tugging at them.
Fingers, sticking to words, sticking to my feet.
No way of sorting, assembling or synthesising the words into sentences or
any semblance of sense, or senselessness; and seeing
the futility, feeling sensible and sensitive to the
situation – I give
in. Senseless.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, March 2019
Inspired by Wilfred Owen’s poem, ‘Futility’.
Image by Clker-Free-Vector-Images on Pixabay
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 