The blood runs crazy.

So suddenly the madness came with its whiskered, wolven ether pangs. He locked the door and he shut the blinds, he laid down on the floor and he slept like iron while the dirty knife wore deep into his spine. Cascading letters pool on the stairs. The grass is high, the cats are wild; can't even touch the tip of their tails. He sang nursery rhymes to paralyze the wolves that eddy out of the corner of his eye. But they squared him, frozen where he stood, in the glow of the furniture piled high for firewood.

Кричить шалено, стрекоче зубами.