I'm less concerned with the nimiety of the words, I hear it all a slur and sort it out at human pace. The courts have all been adjourned and I have heard of our demise: our inevitable fates. And though at first I thought it wise to overprepare, I'm thinking twice, cause what I feel overwhelmingly means more to me than all the Information I could gather; The depths that I could reach, The figures that could add up And the voices that could speak- Sounding without purpose- shall I grasp your every word? No longer will I listen For I've nothing to return I'm looking for a longer presence I'm searching for a deeper heart I'm listening for the textures and the feelings I want to hear emotion and its cause I've been hiding out, been in a guise, I've been indulging- drunk night after night. It could be worse, I must defy. I could give it up and be just like the other guys, clawin at their eyes wishing it were different To lose it all- the sensual, awareness of surrounding lull- the underlying principle of all this trouble it would Render me to rubble. Could put me on my knees, Begging for some difference, some light I'd never see. So I'm participating wholly- Absorbing, plying life. Reeling in the experience and Stringing up what's mine. I'm looking for a longer presence I'm searching for a deeper heart I'm listening for the textures and the feelings I want to hear emotion and its cause Knowing there's a longer presence Diving into deeper hearts Basking in the textures and the feelings Know of emotion and its cause {Presence} Please leave me a letter, I don't want no talk today. Write me a note, don't send me no quote of what another had to say. I want to see your longhand, baby, or even a scribble-script post-it. Let it come from within you, my friend, and make it read just like you spoke it. Sing me your praises while your throat's the ink on the page. Play me your woes with the pen you hold and don't pull back any rage. I want to read about your purpose in ink, want to see it come alive in your handwriting, let its curvature decide how you break free of the type of the digital existence that you give way to divide your- Purpose, Keep you on the screen. It's flattening your texture Pulling you from me, Trivializing your soul, Making sure you don't speak. Please leave me a letter, Take your time, tell me better. Let me read your soul and all its splendor, the depths that you'd reach, richness you'll render. Sing me your sorrows while your throat's the ink on the page Play me your pride with the graphite you borrow, write it down, don't erase. Prove to me with your penmanship that you've got some depth, you ain't full of shit, and that you might leave a longer presence: Shed some of yourself, Leave some behind for tomorrow to find that speak for what you felt. Transmit all the texture, waveforms, signal received. Along a synapse freight line you'll find soul junction awaiting. They've got the stamp for your passport, none print quite the same. Saying everything about you and how far you'll ride this train. Could be your jammed on information highways, or swimming in the trivial sea, going in circles awaiting your last days, 'stead of defining who you'd be. Absorb the momentary presence. Dig deeper in your heart. Listen for texture, submit feeling. Reciprocate emotion and purpose.