Indigo Dunes

While I'm at it, I'll also post a poetry piece of mine. Since I'm finalizing my poetry portfolio, there's going to be a fair amount poetry showing up. Just know that I prefer fiction writing over poetry--basically, I wouldn't call myself a poet.
This poem will be appearing in Sanctuary Magazine, a publication here on campus. It's also my first officially published writing.

Indigo Dunes

Already the Kid can see

 barren indigo waves drift

  into the blanket of night

   with vengeance and mutual

    tolerance worn thin, like

     how he misses her

      thin purple dress, and

       she is his only concern,

        she is his only thought,

         her gentle curves seen

          in the sand dunes as he

           stares into the Egyptian blue

          night, his fire out, shivering—

         but unlike his spirit, he

        glares patiently, expecting

       white roses to fall from the

      heavens, kissing his face

     cold with tears of God as

    if apologizing for the

   thirst that stole her life and

  now sits beside him, potion

 clutching his spine tight to

manipulate its marionette like a

  pup, leading his thoughts on a leash,

    a singular meridian of murder

      wide around the earth, letting the

        hellhounds out and on the loose,  

          like the wild dogs roaming the dunes

            running with sand, an opaque wind

              along her legs and hips, and

                they begin to rip his flesh

                  tear and snap his tendons,

                 disembowel her painful past that

                is within him as he bleeds in a

              savage skeletal wasteland long

            dead, not a thing living but the

          Devil itself, a beast of a

        temptation, who asks where his

      savior is in his time of need,

    but he insists it is nature

  at its best, and that God has

 always been here, the true

design, the War that He is.