part of it, only that

I found coconuts in the backyard again. The sun was set but it wasn't dark. I piled the coconuts together, careful to shake them you to make sure they were good. I know I'm near the beach, I know I can make it to the water. My dreams. Purple and grey skies. It's nighttime but it isn't dark. 

There's something eating the things we left

​It's not something we talk about I guess. The moment you finally decided to ask for help. Sick as we all are, drinking and smoking our way through, we continue to live. Uncomfortable, sometimes actively dying. Too fucking poor to do anything about it. 

It sounds insane, my sweet blog, that I'm just as lost.

Does anyone else just fucking not remember? It's been so many years.