>>327My understanding of the poem is this. It's a confused profession of some bastard of adoration and lust for some other - never defined nor articulated, like the first stanza zooming about in its caprice. All of this urge directed towards some person that we are assured is 'genuine' and worthy of the 'best' treatment, I presume, despite that treatment not being the most noble in the first place.
Now, am I off the mark, or is this poem really a Frankenstein's monster of traditional, virtuous love and misguided modern "love"? The lack of discernible rhythm helps to exude that vibe of a fickle narrator. This is why it reads like a schizo's manifesto, or perhaps more strikingly, the midnight text messages I receive from my junkie friends. It's all over the place, like a budding, awkward teenage writer's first poem for his secret crush.
It shows great promise, but it is simply unrefined and immature in its structure and motive. Practise and read more, learn more about the ways of the world, and make sure that your next inspiration is more of a tour de force, and not like this tour de farce.