I STAND ON THE EDGE OF MEANING

Words by Chanel Trezise

i stand on the edge of the world every Wednesday, blowing bubbles with spit and wondering what time my mind will tug awake. i’ve seen people be consumed with ecstasy, it taunts me, what world awaits behind their eyes when they scream God’s name, does she construct my meaning and the lines in my head?

am i religious, an atheist, or a man lost at sea, desperately trying to cling onto any fucking meaning?

when my rabbit died and vanilla ice cream tasted the same, tears were a warm embrace, winter lulled me to sleep and conversations drew dust of meaning, the worthiness of a rabbit, my friend…the way the world constructs hierarchy.

i often look into my eyes and the hurt palpitates. i kiss her on the cheek. hugging her until it all makes sense. the fear of people and the things they say it’s not their fault but it lingers all the same. my meaning and their meaning is more than taunted screams; I wish i could tell her the pain made me somebody close to something, oneday.

people come and go, love being carried in the wind, but my pleasure is temporary in wake of stable morning kisses and bitey, early, coffees.

all the meaning i thought was worthy is nothing like what i thought it would bei miss the reactionary viciousness of ups and downs, when i found meaning in my own stupidity and naive misdemeanours, stumbling as a child in a world not built to be perceived. i know more mistakes await through love and lost weaning and fleeting in life’s short journey, kissing me on the forehead, yearning for stability... boredom and stillness mending my broken pieces.

i know my meaning has changed, now pain is manageable, time feels quicker, evil looms nearer.. but sometimes I miss you, entertained in the loneliest of places dreaming of a million possibilities and strangers, lost in the pinks of a flower, eyeing ants on its stem, consumed with the fleeting moment of forever, unaware of the monster in the corner, tainting meaning with its fingers.

i stand on the edge of my own world on a Thursday night, imagining myself looking over the blissful fields i’ve yet to see, wandering through mountains and goodness from a world lost, exhaling into the abyss of capitalism and the monster i wouldn’t want 10-year-old me to breathe.