I Got My Pennies Worth By Saying No

There’s a five pence piece in my pocket, it means nothing to me. It’s an object that shouldn't be there, but with someone else or somewhere. In my pocket! Forgotten. Like the growing old colourless material on me. The five pence piece makes me feel smaller than normal, giving no impression that I'm doing well. As leaning over the toilet seat, as bent slate or like the nickel-plated being. It’s getting closer to my piss and stained trousers with sick. The argument resulted in a shortage of thinking. I am alone with another woman (Elizabeth) but for the moment she is warmer and kinder. I needed to lay down for a long time.