I'm probably outing myself as a total weirdo, but I found this old poem I'd written a few years ago where I tried to subvert the 40K setting with a kind of radical love via a space marine's prayer to a Chaos god. Since I can't imagine anyone else on the Internet who might appreciate it, even a little, I figured I'd post it here.
Tzeentch is the Chaos god of change and stuff. I guess most people have played Chaos in the Old World by this point, so his name isn't that unfamiliar.
Anyway, here's the poem, hope you enjoy it:
Prayer to Tzeentch
I dreamed last night of a huge bird every color of the rainbow,
a pet that wasn't mine,
and I'm not a fool; I know which way the wind blows.
Forty thousand years, a blue flame, and the number nine,
and it's always been war,
skulls, swords, and guns, every stop on the time line
and today, there's no place to sit down anymore;
it's hard to take a stand
in the best of times, from which we are far. I know my lore,
and my brother died on his feet, but I held his hand--
you, changer of small things,
Dark God of Hope, if it's my worship you demand
I'll gladly give, if giving brings
a tiny surety.
They forged me well, and I delight in slaughtering
like a weapon, and those it kills it does not miss or see;
I'll be amenable.
But there's one thing you have to promise me:
I've seen your kind pass by before, watched love itself become untenable;
leave me a means to touch,
if soft hands gone, then with claw and tentacle.