a thought-fence. one of each, for each strand, hair strand, broken, follicles run amok. a tattoo stain, henna porn, in the apocalyptic rain of chernobyl. born again, in the chemotherapy of christ, the placenta of the lamb, over and again, over and again, hospital walls with spittle, horrific globs of i-was-once-here-but-gone-too-soon-too-soon. carry over the one, but then the other, and two by two we go into nefarious places holding two by fours and nothing more, shit house. and to think, to think, once more and again, like loose teeth for a fairy.