This is worth my tears, why not destroy me now?

So many problems in my story, and shadows in my life. Private experiences of adult emotions. Contemplative seriousness of maturity that seduces you. I usually play. But I don't like to be touched, I like to be treated delicately. I look for tenderness and softness, I prefer to give my masters the leash. This is my dark desire. You can hurt me by burying your fingers between my ribs, digging them into my chest. The pain is intense, it burns, imprisons and breaks, it is the rupture of my cold and vulnerable bird chest that hurts my tired heart. (and weak), this injury bleeds a black liquid like tar, it is impregnated and disgusting dirt that emanates from my interior, it comes from my sick soul, from nocturnal pollution. Corrupted by fear, guilt and cowardice.