the thing with "meaning"
The thing with meaning is difficult.
meaning seemed to be the kind of thing like compositions they made us write in exercise books back in primary school
i wrote "...today we went to the natural history museum"
i wrote "...i am so proud to be given this opportunity"
i wrote "...a surge of warmth rose up in my chest"
we were taught to speak of passions and pride and dream-come-trues before we knew what any of them meant,
and afterwards we never got to learn what any of them meant
perhaps we did know at one point but being forced to say it all the time has made them impossible to recognise even if they stare at you in the face
i wanted not meaning but its eradication
to have a meaning you need to conform to the power that assigns it
("please sir, can i have some more?")
i wanted
to cut open the flesh and
to strip away the signals, signs, subtext
until there is no past, no name, no origin
to be legible you need to follow the rules
the rules that always come before you and never with your knowledge or agreement
And they claim to be more real than you,
this might be wrong but that doesn't make much of a difference
Since being right was never the point
There are many words to choose from but none of them fits
so many words that they block your throat and make you choke
your meaning is not your own -
you don't make it yourself and you certainly don't get to keep it
the meaning is
"out there",
in the wild,
running through alley-ways and hiding behind street signs
you run after it,
even capture it in a cardboard box or a gilded cage,
yet it escapes eventually, and goes on living long after you perish