I could be an intergalactic terrorist
or a doctor in Tanzania;
I could be the president of the universe
or the creator of television.
I could be that shadowy figure in your dreams
with a rose in his hands waiting for you,
or the bus driver who doesn’t pull away
just before you can safely cross the road.
I could turn all you see into beauty
or clear the clouds so you can feel the sun
and the warmth it would give you
would only be equalled by my devotion to you.

I could spin the mountains into the greenest fields
and upturn cities into beaches constructed of gold.
I could be that special someone you’ve craved
and the ears when no one else will listen.
I could show you everything in existence
and still have time to prepare exquisite meals
suited to your pleasure and your taste.
I could whip up a storm on the horizon
so you can watch the lightning as the sun sets
and dreams of you and I before it rises with us tomorrow.

I could scare off your fears with a hand to hold
and a shoulder to cry on when the weight gets too much.
I could carry your burden and help you to live
even at the expense of my body.
I could write you a ballade and dedicate a film to you
and laugh at all your jokes and boost your self-esteem
by telling you every morning when I awaken from a perfect dream
that you look beautiful, and I would never have to lie
because I know the truth is always there before me.
When you fall, I could help you up
and dance with you if you were bored.
I could work for us so you could relax
and enjoy peace and quiet and rest.

Or I could cut you out of my thoughts
and leave your corpse for the vultures of memory.

[snip snip]

the raging black tide is washing over me and engulfing me in darkness i have never seen before. rocks are my anchor but i cant see them. i can see someone standing on a shore waving at me. a woman, crying and wiping tar from her arms. smoke rising from her chest. a dull speck of light between her fingers and it moves to her face and back down again, thin tendrils of blue smoke curling through her eyes and fingers. she blinks. i dont know her face or smell. she smells of the sea and seagulls and seething hatred. another wave and im marooned on a walled island. there is a bed, a desk, a bookcase. myself is in the bed and a screen is glowing on the desk. the rain and sea is making everything wet. it starts to melt.

horus is my master-

and he is my keeper.
im a little sleeper
and a slitherer
slithering through the waves
and the darkness of regret.
the second part is breathtaking, especially the very end. I think you could could out much of the beginning; the point is put across quickly and a lot of it seems facetious or ingenuine because of the size of the list

very nice piece
Quote by Arthur Curry
it's official, vintage x metal is the saving grace of this board and/or the antichrist

e-married to
& alaskan_ninja