London Is Beautiful At Night by Dale James Rappaneau

Static shock.
You ever feel lightening?
You ever feel it course its way through your body?
Not just affecting your physical form,
But hitting you in the soul.
Hitting you in your heart.
Hitting you where you want it.
Because that’s what I’m about to do.
I’m about to conjure up a thunder storm in this place,
Because I shook a city once.
I tore it down and rebuilt in my likeness.
In the form that I wanted and needed.
All of the buildings reflected my personality,
And all of the streets carried the passion that runs through my veins.
And the people?
The people were no one and nothing.
They meant nothing to me.
They still mean nothing to me.
Because I was that city,
And I still am.
I’m the creator.
I’m the destroyer.
I’m the architect of your dreams.
I can make it all come true,
But I can make it fade away.
Fade away like that dream you had last night.
You were cuddled up with you ultimate sexual fantasy.
You were caught in the heat of moment.
Your nails digging in.
Your breathe getting hot.
And you felt it.
That urge.
That ache that your body gives you.
And as you were acting upon that primal ecstatic need,
And your hands could literally feel the skin rubbing up against you,
You woke up.
And it left you with a haze of confusion;
Confusion you had never felt before,
And it was enough to make you question your reality.
Question everything you own.
Question everything you do.
Question everyone you know.
Question everything you are.
And you began to search for an answer.
An answer that had no question.
But you kept on asking.
You kept asking “Why?”
You kept asking where it went.
You kept asking what it meant.
That dream.
That city.
That person.
But go ahead and sigh now.
Sigh a sigh of relief and let it all go away.
Let your breathe escape you.
Let it run free from your lungs and gallivant all over the world.
Because I’m here,
And I still have so much more to say.