sonnet I keep a distance

I keep a distance off a chick who clings
Who cannot separate a thing and soul
Her cross hair circumstance and comments droll
Her weepy paranoia wont wait in wings
I know a woman wrests hot rocks on rings
And tampons monthly take their troubling toll
And bloody birth holds every girls great goal
And fashion fickle sorry staleness flings
I peeped my Pip and saw just what was pent
She glowered aloof or laughed a lot with boys
I blanked her boredom envy moved I lent
A yearning ear I nabbed annoying naff noise
A hair of dog which bit me what hallowed vice
I take if lovers loved are burnt on ice
Chorus vice iniquity sin