Who The Fuck Knows

Is it better to fail well
Or fail horrendously

The built-in, unstrippable
The most damaging and disgusting
Feature of language
Is that it creates hierarchies

And every hierarchy is bullshit —
False, untrue, does not exist

There is no hierarchy of emotions
No ranking among states of consciousness
No happier better than rotten
No depression worse than anger, bliss better than misery
No enthusiasm better than boredom
No accord better than discord, higher better than low
No right better than wrong, gain better than loss
No living better than dying

But even to speak against language
Against the hierarchy that it creates
By simply touching — any emotion, state, object of perception
Itself — creates the very hierarchy —
The speaking against seeks to demolish

And that is — the entire project
Of so called human development —
Progress, evolution, advance, improvement
Enhancement —
Which from the very first word —
Is a travesty, an attack and vanity
An activity —
That divides the man from himself

Words come precontaminated
Polluted by grammar, of hierarchy and division
Ignorance, immaturity, wisdom
Peace and war — all contain their own
Unstoppable meaning

And it is the meaning — that infects
That seeps in — permeates
The lens through which
Activities, events —
And one’s own internal experiences
Are labelled, identified
Classified and placed upon the scale
Of right and wrong
Desirable or undesirable

All of which is reinforced —
Every waking hour of one’s life
Through the language of social communication
Even among one’s most intimate relationships
In workplace, with strangers

By the entire field —
Of self improvement
Optimising, hierarchising
Every single quality, of every second
Of one’s daily life

The human being — a body —
In an almost constant state
Of trying to find a state — that’s better
Higher, more, greater
On a scale —
Created entirely by language

It is almost impossible —
To find a single word — possibly no, possibly yes
Or a single phrase, better than
Who the fuck knows

That remains — after seeing the full extent
Of the invasion, the infection
The veil that language draws
Upon perception itself
And how it taints every experience
Inner and outer
With value and worth

And amongst the disgust, the revulsion
Toward this veil, how it divides
Which itself — is the product of language

The recognition —
Of the impossibility
Contradiction and falsity
Of all these words
All bullshit —

Is — the one faculty —
Uncontaminated by language

That topples, demolishes
The entire edifice of knowledge
Built upon the foundation
Of language, along with
The one could say anything about it

And there again, inescapably
Language arrives to plant the flag
Of arrival — destination —
To point at and toward
The end of delusion, ignorance
When the end
The beginning and the entirety
Of the middle
Is but its perpetual revolt against
Itself — in fixating, fixing
Upon any hierarchy
It barks