It is difficult to make a BDSM poem

Morning and fresh and comforting breath and I am the soft moon of my body, the desire of your black eyes appears, I will go soon again I'm alive and I'm a hangman. I'm sick. You're definitely sick. You'm sick. Yes. Fear of the next blow to my body, oh, take away my love and affection, kill me, this crystal of my body, the vow of the voice of the hybrid commander, I am full of anger Give between my eyebrows to take that bend and anger of my heart, close the bitter and cold altar and blindfold me, put your blows, sudden burning and fear, and oh, whatever I want you to say, no, not the severance of my soul, surrender, hot body, hot head and drunk My dear, I am on my knees on the way to breaking my head. Lift up firmly, oh, your blows, burning pain, because they do not sit down from you, they drink the blow, because it comes from you. To know that anger is beautiful is that I am drunk and submissive with all my arrogance and surrender to you. I am full of emotion. No confidence Trust is not with me Close my hands The score of his work Twenty smells of candles and sulfur My eyes are closed Burning scorching Candle water and check Checks My anxiety is great Drops on the chest from the abdomen to the bottom Wow this is not great You come to my lips, I'm behind my master, my hair is in my hands, what a flower you're holding, my breath is trapped in my chest, and the currents are fast and sudden. The story of this feeling is a story of pain and suffering. It is difficult for me to understand. My feeling is full. My hidden feeling. Pash is sick, a poet full of feelings, there are many words, they closed the roads, it is difficult to shout with silence, this building is rubble, behind every here, there is still a wall