Sunburn (for adam)

I was thinking about you on the train today
About how ink is so much deeper than these micros we use to try to express
And I wondered if it’s even worth it to really try to spill ones self electronically
Because there is nothing really to spill
Ink blots and feelings can be smudged and words can literally be shaped
Circles and lines misfigured in a moment with no notice
A hiccup
A sneeze
A random reflex
A phone call that interrupts the flow

You would never know of all this with a well-constructed email
But the hand
It seems the hand can tell no lies
In its pain we find ourselves stepping towards glory
How far we get is lodged between desperate desire and blood rushed necessity to win the war of mind over matter

And does it matter?
Or better, do you mind if these words reach you electronically and are from my mind?
Would you mind getting to know me?
To be the recipient of every thought I have?
It might be fun to be that close
Then again, it may just hurt

No one should stare directly at the sun—you’d go blind
But you can still get all the nutrients you need just from standing in its heat

So I suppose if this is me being real with you
Being straight-up and honest with you
Just like I want to be
This is me asking you how close you want to be to blind?

Somebody had to prove it didn’t they?

What is your goal? And are you afraid of sunburn?