you're coughing up the sea

and you're plunged into the collapse of waves, as the blue fills every cavity on your living-being. your eyes are pulled shut like those shutter-blinds that someone closed quickly because they're afraid of the dark and night has cloaked the town. as every appendage on your body frantically dances, creating bubbles and disintegrating energy, your lungs begin to shake.

and your body begins to shake.

and you feel the entire turn of the world around you and your blue blanket.

and someone removed the blanket. and you're up, and you're breathing, and your sunken chest is loud. really loud, and it climbs into your ears as the remains from the waves climb up your throat. your lungs begin to shake again, and with the lack of oxygen they nearly explode inside your ribcage. the surge of carbon dioxide and oxygen colliding between your organs sends the rest of the blue through your throat.

you're coughing up the sea.