Sickness is my latest Paramore
She is more attentive
Less fickle
She sticks like late season honey to the insides of my fever dream
A purple moth with nectarine probiscis
She hears my chest rise and fall
Like carefully tilted chess pieces
Will release balance and find
Greater purchase in uneven defeat
I remain undefeated
As if by whim
A last horrah
Like a Rosy cheeked girl with retrouse buttocks
Tips her mirth at the crowd
Who in unisen rise 
Fat, thin, butter fingered and pianist
To cheer her abandon
As I turn my hot cheeks your way
Facing one another in the skeleton of dawn
I see your need of me
So insate and thundering
And though selfish mayhaps
I entreat
Pick another
I spent much time unraveling
Yet I remain
Stubborn and glassy eyed
A drunk patient of witchery
Somebody without many pockets
Containing Combs and honey
Yet my lips are sweetened by the shape
So simple and elongated
Of one more turn
On this thin ice
I bring
Few coins and less 
Courage than a child
But if you release me
I will have 
Remembered yet …
How to skate