Light and Shadow

There was a bleeding, aching wound. A pulsating, pustulant, and grievous wound. It ate through the center of the thing and ran deep into its very core. To feel its pain, to relish in the delight of the suffering it wrought was to ascend to a higher sphere of consciousness. The pain extended far beyond what one could imagine capable until, at last, a threshold was crossed where torment became ecstasy. In another place there was a thrust of delicate force, penetrating into a deep place, stabbing as it were. Up, down, in and out again, and again, and again. 

The rhythm of the thrusts increased, sped up and became more aggressive. 

A reflection of light glistening on wet skin, a glare-moonlight caught in steel; blood shining in the gaslight. 

A moan rises into the night air. 

In the place where sleep awaits

In the darkness between sleep and wake

A yawning maw lined with teeth

I am the night and the day

The sun and the moon

Light and shadow