A colloquial reluctance to assimilate a soliloquy

Jacqueline du Pré, 

Edward Elgar, mov. 1 concerto para violoncelo en Mi menor op. 85
(maestro: Daniel Barenboim, Londres, 1967)

Did I dream? was I ever you
Or was it my inefficient imagination
my cynical optimism
my baroque contradiction
my own contingency
[whatever]
imagining that you once were me?

Why bother to know
such obnoxious eloquence
and fluent speech
crambled with cherries
and strawberries
when all such imperfect
gentrified formulation
and verbal masturbation
can merely achieve
an ambiguous festival of silence?

I see white words
floating on dark screens
poetry drown in modernity
and sarcasm
words full of hormones
men and women
all alone
with a single purpose
to marry
Tom or Jerry

Where is veracity?
or the capacity
to explain reality
Is it methodology?
or mythology?
a simple theory
perhaps a cursed soliloquy
to describe this pile of debris
with no cerimony
or drudgery

Love will always be a mistery