FINISH THIS:
Draw around.If I catch ye again trying to commit me. ( How´d I ever get off the Titanic bridge ? ) Nowadays I tend to sleep with home-spun noose. Sure now?
It was in fifty four, early morning already very hot, our parent´s harnessed horses frisky to go, still quite still hay-knife in its mowing-machine oiled, sheathed, cleanly cut two rabbit´s legs, then that unfortunate nesting instinct of our corncrakes. Far in the future lay her scream, dormant in my June: how the, her eyes were filmed over. That June
month fused the bread-knife, the clean legs, a child´s bliss, my hay smell now in these virtual lines. If you believe this, you´ll believe anything, no little sir. Wash her strait-jacket; hang out to dry in the summer sun. Stop your inner scream or you´ll get a great slap ! Right here and now ! Mind this urn.