Sandstorm Poem by Dylan KD.

Confusing forms that pry like teething
in blanketed syndromes long before,
drove in seas still like a barrack
influenza guns bathe in the space of hype.

Slowly opened costumes cry like swollen arcs
above the drum as wings die proud,
in flight are stillborn makeshift cancers
who swing in patterns thrown from ghosts.

In counting suns who sing in tired cups
she spills the holster of a thousand holes
asleep in sorrows made below the static
drones of the callous horse twitch into tune.