The Emptiness of thoughts

I listen to Colin Stetson's "From no part of me could I summon a voice" and understand the anguish and frustration pouring out of the tunes. All is nothing, and existence is re-evaluated in every breath. Al Jourgensen was definitely right: The mind is a terrible thing to taste. The emptiness of thoughts is the symptom of our reality. We isolate ourselves psychically, yet we are interdepedent and interactive on a shallow and blatant level to an extent it only serves as an indulgence for the Ego, but has no productive purpose or altruistic worth. There's no real collective, only on slogans and campaigns. The individual and its untouchable freedom is the main concern of the politics, even the sacred will towards loneliness and the mental wilderness in perception and definition that follows in its wake. Survival is generic and boring.