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waves not in sets,

crosscurrents, rip tides,

slapping, gasping

not a lake shore gentle lapping, nor

the predictable surfable sets, but instead

demonic beasts wrestling with

bared fangs, claws slashing,

rip tides sucking seaward

cross currents randomly churning

foam and sand swirling

gasping panic, lungs filling

pulled under again and again,

smacked down first

this way and that by

loneliness, agony, angst,

rage, fury, anger,

hurt, pain, throbbing misery,

confusion, fears and phobias,

haunting dreams and magical thoughts,

sobbing, sighing, bleeding, dying of

sorrow and grief

the waves exacerbated by squalls of

well-meaning platitudes,

cold bible verses, and

superficial pop psychology;

or numbed by drugs, only to

reëmerge in the grocery isle

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