Here come the clowns

(Loney dear - harm/slow)

Above, on top of things, far above the world, as people seems like ants. Above oneself, beyond the normal of what 'it is supposed' to be. Standing on the curb, feeling the wind move the hairs on my arms. Feeling the sun shine in my face, my clothes, slowly burning my skin. Feeling how the gentle breeze moves my dark blue suit. I hold my hands behind my back, let them rest peacefully and confidently.

I know the time is comming as I hear the clumsy footsteps of the roof door. I know how the things are now. I know what is set and done. I can now proceed with my mission. I listen to the wind, I see the people, the lights flashing beneath me. The shouting of megaphones filling the sky with words. Kind words, good words, words well meant, not for someone who is about to destroy their world.

 I hear the door open, here come the clowns, they have figured out. Carefully they walk towards me. Asking me how it works...

They don't know how it works. It works so said the clowns. The beeping started, the beeping advances. The clowns realise that they are too late. I wonder if they will shoot me before the end. But hearing loud low bangs 42 floors below me, as the vibrations fill up the building.

I hear the gravel atop the roof shake, the blast filling my ears. The glass falling down upon the gathered crowd of spectators. It's glistering as it falls down is as a beautiful show of white snow falling in the bright winter sun. I feel the building still trembling, it's foundations cracked underneath me. As the ground beneath me is rocking in the wind. Or at least so it seems. I feel it give way to the back, I take a step forward, and will see how the packet on my back is folded well enough.