A storm brews

My body is leeched of the life that once was.  It is hot.  Upon the dunes in the distance the heat shimmers, Djinn's dancing their seductive dance of hopeful thinking with arms wide open.  They beckon, and call.  Above, circling in the vaulted blue heaven that no longer looks down upon me, the vultures sing their hymn of death.  They await for the fumble of the feet, so that they can have a feast of the corpse that is me.  The sand is everywhere, and like an ocean ever changing and distorted.  Already this hellish expanse of land has brought forth my cuts and scraps with it's storms of  wind.  Clothes hang in tatters upon my burnt skin, blistered and irritating.  As my feet shuffle, I begin to think of the failings in which have occured, and I do not understand why.  Why is the question I can not answer.  The why is me, but the answer still eludes me with persistent nature.  Beyond the granters of wishes, a storm begins to arise, a malevolent force of nature growing dark and unruly.  With a demonic grin of malice and hate it slowly charges toward me.  It laughs.  The resounding booms, they make me stumble and to my knees I fall.  With a haze that obscures my eyes, I watch it smile, jagged teeth gnashing towards the earth to consume everything in it's violent wake.