Now I'm settling in your bones

Wholeheartedly, I believe in the adage "a place for everything, and everything in its place." Nevertheless, I regularly feel the strongest urge to knock something, your teeth maybe, squarely out of place. I have spoiled you in sparing the rod, so what will it be? A good paddling? Ruler to the knuckles? How about a rousing jolt from a car battery? Or maybe you would care to cut your own switch? Trauma has a lasting impression, and I am nothing if not determined to be indelible. It was not so long ago that you yourself took up the cause, armed with a black Sharpie and a canvas of alabaster skin. Oh it washed away, but perhaps, instead of rinsing off, it leached in. Possibly even now, my name in the form of tiny ink blots surges through your bloodstream. One particle at a time, I'm workin' into your soul.