The Logic of Void

Posit the void, let the rank and stale sink in with everything else to the fundamental zero in reference to itself and pale in comparison to the sheer potential of the blank canvas where you were in the beginning as a constant. Succumb to an endless end folded again and again, not for repetition, as each fold is different every time, but intermingled, as if coming from everywhere at the same time, this conglomerate ouroboros, can’t tell if head or tail 50/50 change. – What, then, reigns in this anarchy, if not nothing? And what is the war for, if not nothing? Who do you conquer, if not yourself? What do you refuse, if not the silence you can never hear? Who do you fear, if not the other? Who do you fuck when you masturbate?