Eros of a new-blown I

Can't I befriend a god, you ask?
Sipping scotchy, cumforting a cigarette at hand -
I can. Idealistic even, able to assist your gruesome fear
of choices: AK-47 or spare change to poor?
No matter. You just ask.

Tolerate my presence as incognito you must.
For I can steal your cheesiness, perverted thoughts
off yours let loose. Your twisted mind grips trust
For both of us - my devil's make-up of no choice.

Robust, aching, smiling joints collide
When your eyes suspend my freedom's juggle.
Only sound of paddle can align my drift
For I'm a mammal with a stick for fire.

Can't I befriend a god, you ask?