Sand Storm

A storm.

Sand stinging, tempers flaring,

sun blazing, cutting through your skin.

Leaving welts and burns across

the solid, pale plain 

of your face.

This passion.

Seething underneath your

skin, melting away these anguishes

and agonies of the sandstorm.

Like red embers,

surrounding your face, burning your lips,

scratching your eyes like little angry claws...

ripping your hair from the scalp, tearing

at already-tattered clothing

and burying you further

and further

and

further.

The sun growing

ever closer, melting these 

furious little grains into liquid

pain, smattering and spattering

in pissed off little vines,

leaving behind

a network of 

whip lines.

And you raise your palms.

Almost as if it'll make a difference against

the fury.

And you look at your hands, upturned, scarred and

red and raging with blood,

crimson streams

running down your sleeves,

filled and burning with sand.

You shelter your face,

going blind and numb.

Boiling with madness,

the pace of your heart...

slowly sinking.

The thud growing dimmer

and duller,

collapsing into your chest's cavity,

the passion dimming.

Only the buzz and hum of the storm,

raging and whipping past your ears,

your bleeding,

burned,

and shriveling ears...

Your lips scraps of flesh, you cannot cry out.

Your hands only tattered fibers, bleed your heart's true colors.

And your eyes have disintegrated.

One by one this storm eliminates your humanity.

Eating you alive.

Swallowing and dragging you into the midst of hell.

These grains of sand, much like the people, tear

and rip

and pry 

your insides apart. They gut you alive, starting by tearing

down your

guise,

your happiness,

your esteem,

your shell.

Then eat inward,

infiltrating your ears,

your mouth,

your eyes,

your limbs...

Eventually your chest.

And you're only victim because of a lying

manipulative

disgusting

son of a b***h.

Who has started and watches you die in the sandstorm.

Reviews

[G. Anderson]

Thank you for taking time to read and review my poem

[Wolfwind]

There is a sincerely brutal honesty about these words. I love the graphic detail that draws the images and the power of the scene into an almost 3D quality. I like it!

Aaron