Not So Fast (a freewrite)

Cigars have stained my teeth.
Yet I am more comfortable smiling than before.
And feel wrong about it.
I feel sexy enough to shoot shots at the most glorious.
As I cock the pistol, the forewarned bears the arms of fore(-).

The glory of benevolent conceit.

What do you say to the black of soil?
What do you say to the white of follicle?

I signed a CosmicContract with you.

There are no breakups.
None that either of us will survive, at least.

And yet the inherited mortal need of confirmation puts you in position to dominate.

But I signed a CosmicContract with you.

The stars know.
Your star knows.
My star knows.

The stars know.

Im already sick ofwith withof love.
There is a more qualified and compatible man out there.
Factually.

I dwell in my pariah cocoon and create.
The asexual butterfly.

For so long it's been this way.

Neither of us were prepared for the Contract.
But we signed it.
We fucking signed it.

And remained professional.

Lest we be reminded what professionalism entails.

There are exes, crushes, flings, soulmates, dreamgirls, celebs and lust factors.
Pieces of my body, heart and soul can be found in each.

My mind troubled at the thought.

I am spoken for.

All I can do is create.

I signed a CosmicContract with you.
Upon arrival.
Before impact.
On contact.
No contact.

You will always be where I think you are.

-so mote it be