The marching of thoughts sounds like Morse Code
lined up against the measuring tape
and black tape to telegraph
They are banished to a vacuum in a queue
though is it a void if there is something
even two ‘you’s in there
to fill it?
The queue and the double you collide
mid-clash and are suspended
in mid air
stepping on each other’s feet.
And while the embrace is glorious, eternal
a meeting of fairytale fate and chance,
the universe stands still
and that is not good.
While they are entwined there can be no
questions: who? what? when? where?
the all important why?
So I disentangle the ‘q’ and the ‘w’ and keep on typing.