Rough Enough?

Why do I long for
That feeling of flying,
It's so ecstatic,
Yet always cut,
Very sharply,
By impact.
Or is it the reverse?
Like dirt grinding  
Into skin.
Sudden. Abrasive. Intimate.
White noise as air rushes by.
Forced from your lungs,
Or departed from mine.
Time slows down,
Movement speeds up.
Sensations run wild.
Tingling throughout the spine.
Pain, followed by pleasure.
Or is it the reverse?
The need for control,
The want to give in.
To lose it all in an over-gripped
World.
Is it rough enough?
Why does this bring me so much joy?
Chaos is systematic,
Blood always tastes metallic.
Saliva runs rampant.
How hard does hard have to be?
Pleasure, followed by pain.
Or is it the reverse?
What does it take to let it all go.
To give into sensations desired,
To feel release what is required?