And if the word digital, in this crying-for-an-analogy, digital world, means anything, its meaning would be you: digital, untainted love ideal. But you, love, my love, do not exist outside of my digital lie.
Here you are, as an assumption, as an everything, you are my whole, even if you are empty.
Fully mindful I choose to think of your outer, absent-minded, real-virtual life. If anything means something, then anything—perhaps everything—lies in you. In me, this absurd need of doing while not doing anything at all.
Nihil for which you must stand. Absolute emptiness that will arise for something bettter, for something else.
Stand out, you must. While breathing in and out, while listening to the The Godly Voice of all possible godly voices in the world. World, you are mine, too, as you leave.
It is Nihil in your steps as it is nihil in my hands. Nihil for my fay, thus, nihil from our time.
Just nothing. As if anything mattered anyway. Nihil, as if it were just a scam.