Tuesday 21 June 2022

Goodbye, young Adelaide

 

Goodbye, young Adelaide,

cradle of the youth

of my psychosis. 

Goodbye.

You're unable to come on the subsequent journey. 


I renounce you, Adelaide.

In love.

Don't be offended.

I renounce myself as well.


We stand upon a mighty riverbank

but here I cross.

I have some room for cherished friendships,

for mother,

for father somehow.

Yet that is all.

Here we bid farewell. 


Those parties and dinners and gossip,

that thirst for the women and the drink and some

centre of some stage:

I just can't dance those dances anymore. 

They're all so tiresome

and growing tragic.

What life? Where?


I've loved you, Adelaide,

but I'm on my way to kill the thing within. 

Perhaps one can't succeed. 

Many have tried

and I get that this is nothing new.


But knowing I'll fail

is not so crucial 

as knowing I'm trying.


I'm fifty days without ejaculation.

I'm renouncing women

on the fly.

It's all a part of it.

Do you understand, young Adelaide?


You just can't join me now.

I can't extrapolate further.

I'd only be lying

and I'm ignorant of the rest of the story

anyhow. 


Do you know the power

in hearing the sex

of the woman camped adjacent

and simply letting your member stand

ignored by stoic hands?

Stirring once,

plugging your ears

and letting your member fall,

do you know the power of turning from Satan?


Do you understand, young Adelaide?

I'm going crazy on purpose.

You'd only get in the way.


I rest in my tent by Argyle,

hearing the freak show.

They talk of beautiful views

and available work.

I understand it less and less.

I only wish to go to the waters.

I only wish to be baptized again

and again. 


Does God exist?

Does it matter?

Look, goodbye young Adelaide.

I'm already on the other side

in any case. 


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