My pockets are empty, as there is nothing left for me to steal. My hands and mouth are empty too, except for my few and frail words.
I fell asleep on the floor. My shoulder and head ache. My tongue and throat are dry.
I’d lost track of the days and the drinks. So, I laid here, and I remember watching a spider crawl across the ceiling. It was out of my reach, therefore, out of harm. It needed nothing from me, nor nothing to give.
I wonder who might have been be watching me here on the floor. But I already know. And I would not evade peril this time. My heart and bones were due a good crushing underfoot.