Tyranny of Meaning

The moments themselves have become emptied of beauty because it's been displaced in being filled with meaning, inflating it to the point that it becomes worthless, meaningless. I want to destroy its boundaries until none are left. But why am I so destructive? There are no boundaries to begin with, only moments flowing into each other. But my moment is lost in the heap of present, past and future, all jumbled up until I no longer know what's what. I'll start again, and thumb through my memory of moments to give you a present, because what, should I stay here, in a place only meant to contain me? And what could I say or do with others but escape with them too? We play games to escape the tyranny of meaning.