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The Tide Turns Mercurial pulsating as the ocean groans Its sickening pallor through cloying grit That congests each staggering pitch. Thrashing, writhing A dying animal Foaming at the mouth. The distended stomach lurches Retching up its entrails, Corrosive bile hurled at sallow cliffs That buckle and pucker Their arthritic knots, Clenching barnacled fists. The wind wheezes A rasping breath to catch The spit and hiss of satiated hostilities Pocking the ashen sludge Whilst the sky lynches up A twisted shroud. |
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