Sitting at Your Clock

I don't want to be buried in a coffin, because my corpse will be devoured by maggots and worms. I don't want to be cremated, because I don't like the idea of being engulfed in flames and turned into a pile of dust. I don't want to be tossed overboard or buried at sea, I don't want to be scattered to the wind or set adrift in a boat. I don't want to be stuffed like a cat or dog or owl and placed in the corner to be a conversation starter at terrible cocktail parties. I don't want to get sick and I don't want to fall, I don't want whatever I'm in to crash into anything else. I don't want my final thoughts to be panicked ones, to think of all the things I'll never do and didn't do and could have done better. I don't want to cry or scream or clutch onto an unknown stranger. I don't want to be connected to anyone in that way, and I sure as hell don't want it to connect anyone else. I don't want to be forgotten but I'm terrified of being remembered, that I'll be remembered the wrong way, that too much will be cut out or refined. I don't want to leave you behind and wait, because I don't know what time is like anywhere else or if it exists at all. And even if it doesn't for me it will for you, and I wouldn't have you sitting at your clock for all the world.