I lay in the bask of my own death, waiting and waiting. Longing for a disruption to my peace. The quiet stillness was kind at first. Now it is merely suffocating. I think about the time I had. The poetry that I wrote, the women I loved and the house I lived in. This is my home now. The rotting skin seeping into the wet soil, as bugs colonize my space. I wait a bit longer. But I suppose saying “A bit” undermines how much longer. Rephrase. I wait a while longer. That makes more sense. I do love the one thing I get still in death. Time to think. Of course, it is irritating waiting for a disturbance to come change something. Change anything! But…I have all the time in the world to think. AND Of course, I have said this before. But don’t blame me for that, there are plenty of things I have said before. One starts to forget after being in the ground so long. I close my eyes. Well not literally. Because well, they are gone. But I close the eyes I have in my head. Again, not literally, just bare with me. Then, I feel it. I feel the seeds start to sprout and the vines start to entangle around my seemingly rusted bones. I feel it. I feel the flowers start to bud. The sun start to shine on my naked grin. If one could only know they would think I am truly smiling. I feel it. I feel the flowers bloom around me. Finally. The disruption I have longed for, for so long. The birds coming to eat seeds and the butterfly’s coming to say hello. Finally! A disturbance.