My Shadow Self

I do not understand why I am the way I am. The demand my flesh has for the sting of whip, or the slice of knife. In my mind I see the shadows that smile the smile of wicked and wanton. They know what it is I feel for the pain that makes me lust for life. The words that spuew from the dripping throats of the shadows drive me to want more. The feel of the blade that cuts so deep, that makes my flesh crawl with spider web pain forces my body to writhe and sing. The Crack of the whip sending bolts of lightning up my spine into my skull. My harden cock red with desire, yet my body shakes in fear. Why do I give myself over to the will of another like this shadow in my head, my soul, my life. It is what I am. The shadow is me. Now all I want is the knife, the knife in my hand, I cut, I slice, I give my self over. It pleases me.