Outside my door people are waiting, men, dangerous men searching for something, searching for ME. I can see them through the peephole, up front the man in in the leatherjacket. Opposite, contrary, different, dangerous. His eye seems gigantic through the magnifying glass, red veins running through it like rivers of blood. Dangerous man.

He can't see me. Pictures pass before my eyes, looking through the keyhole. The man speaks, voices from the other side of the door: This is it, we're right here, waves, I can see a television, flowers, the old man in his suit and rockingchair, it's him, waves, I can see waves, mumbling, I can see him.

Come in, come in Gentlemen, no need to be shy, come in, along the corridor please, the scarf onto the wardrobe to the left if you please, the livingroom is to your left through the glassdoor, please, feel at home, sit down, can I offer you a drink?

Is that me? Is that really my voice talking?

But at the end of the day it doesn't matter anyway. Who cares what the gentlemen from outside the door do. We don't spend enough time meeting new people anyway, talking, making old frienships blossom again.

Photos are being passed around, printed, square, if I happen to know this man, they ask me. They don't even sit down. How rude. The photos show a face, a face terrifyingly similar to mine. The old man in his suit and rockingchair is being questioned, I call him my man from the past, a souvenir from one of my travels, his tophat is askew, it seems to be cold in his time, he has rugged himself up in blankets. Don't they notice? They don't even notice. My man from the past is deaf, to their voices anyway.

I forgot, dandelions must be blown. Mama has been waiting for this, shes outside the buliding, waiting in the car.

My apologies, gentlemen, I must ask you to leave the house now, I do hope it is not too inconvenient but I must attend further business now, I  have to ask you to leave, good day to you Sir, handshakes, good bye.

I must say, the kind gentlemen deserve to be disissed gracefully. Cindy, the house mascot, shall guide them outside, provided that she can. Cindy is a desiccated dog. She lives in the hallway, right next to the railing. Someone tied her up there once while attending other obligations and forgot about her, one has more important things to do, you know. Her blood evaporated in the heat of the summer day which it was, she shriveled up, she is our one and only, we love her unconditionally.

Thoughts and memories passing, aah, terrible, here and there, don't know anymore, waves, op down, what am I here for, oh yes, right: Dandelions! From the balkony down into the garden!

Dinner is prepared, the guests have arrived. And once again: No time for myself. The table is sagging under the weight of meat, death, blood and thunder. CRUEL WORLD. Spinache would have been an alternative, or raspberries. But there is no space for me at the table anyway. I don't matche there scheme, my stick legs, my ribs and colarbones aren't welcome here.

One fat belly lining the next, their sweaty bodies pressing against each other, groaning, grunting, grabbing, squelching, no one is to miss out. It's all mine, stuff as much as possible into my greedy, hoggish yap, grease and slobber running down chins, spit and bots of food in their faces, on their hands, blood everywhere, death everywhere. Death is smudged all over their hands and bodies, they devour death and nobody is to miss out.

Not even the little ones are being spared. With an expression of derisive joy, with greedy raucous laughs they stuff their faces. Alkohol galore, children, in trance-like state, pouring expencive whisky over their clotty ringlets, to the delight of the elders.. Nobody notices, nobody interveres. SICK WORLD.

Right, I almost forgot: the Dandelions! Ah, fresh evening air! One can grasp clear thoughts again, out here. Dandelions in the wind, weightless parachutes slowly drifting 16 floors down to the ground, relishing the moonlight, thats what we've been waiting for, all this lightness, this ease.

There you go, take some, Acmon Blue, if you like, or Dreamy Dust Wing! Snowy Copper, Willow Hairstreak, Crown Fritillary, Pipevine Snowtail, what ever you wish, what ever your heart desires, always there, always to your service, just call me, just yell out, scream, I'll come running, always here, always to your service! Oh, but most certainly not for free! Wher would one end with manners like that! You pay, my dear boy, with money, hahahah, scratchy loughing, with money, or better even with your life, you can't escape me! You can't escape ME!   Ha Ha Ha Ha.

There is no escape, no way to get out of here, no being-different, no being-the-way-you-are, not in THIS world. You don't have a say, shut your filthy mouth, you dirty scumbag, in this world you are to be bad, you can't escape us, you can't escape us, not in this life! NEVER.

Oh, the dandelions, weren't they wonderful, out of this world, to good to be true, and the butterflies, so gloriously colourful, so different! But the beautiful is not approved of, not allowed here.

What the hell. I give up. My head is empty, there's no way out, no solution. No ideas, no thoughts, no memories, no freedom. Oh, but yes! One butterfly has stayed with me! There it is! One lonely butterfly which hasn't given up on me! It's only a matter of moments and they'll slaughter this one too. I feel it.

Mad world.