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The shore was cast with shells and foam, it felt raw, the ocean swelled from fuming blue and black coral that shouted feverishly in the dark. The waves roll in and rock back. Sweet ocean’s breath against my feet, against sand with shards of glass, no blood. My love, she’s waiting behind on a lonely towel. She blinks, so gorgeous, the waves rock back and forward. She blinks and it’s uncanny, her face prints against my iris, contorted, becoming mangled and distorted – she looks away. Blue clouds, blue gusts of wind, her body bends like melted metal, what an odd shape. I look away to the horizon, how intriguing, a vessel in the distance etched in a fading grey. She looks too, so lovely, and the shore swells up, and the blue and black corals scream in the dark, and the waves with sweet licorice stuck between my teeth wash back into my mouth.

Jeremiah Benson writes to explore everlasting confusion, unreality, and life as a fleeting thought. He can be reached via his twitter.

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