I am yours truly, ripe and unruly
Blood, black, blitz, fact
Striding in gloriously on the back of illusion
Bolted tightly down with the nails of confusion
Pull me down, sweep me up and rip out all that I have
Bloody your face with it and I will smile
Drag me through the wet dirt mile by mile and I am happily muddied
By the chest pounding, stomach fluttering, heart aching emotion
Not to be termed quite as love but riding close enough
By the authentic emotion for me to feign vexation
But, now, here you stand threatening me with sensible notions of
Health and purpose and I spit on them and dismiss them without thought
Warning you, retreat and cease testing the boundaries of dysfunction
Marked by you in the quick sand with your spiked whip
Else chancing you not survive the inquisition
For all the untamed angst and slippery lust and beastly passion
Once laid down for you could be provoked to rise up against you
The cross that finally drives you into the ground
For today and forever I am yours truly
Extremely ripe, ripped, damaged, blasphemous
And very, very unruly.
JeanNicole Rivers
JeanNicole Rivers 