Melancholic Blues.

It's 3am and I am still sitting here thinking.
looking at the net midst the temptations
meditations and annunciations of love
complicitous sex and casual drinking.
It's still before the twilight
no, that's not it, I still can't get it right.

It's 3am and as I surf around the net
wandering from one site to the next
searching for hidden truths, undeniable
secrets, satisfactory silence, trite acts
of mild and passionless violence
I still fear the absence of dreams
no, that's not it at all, nothing is as
simple as it seems.

It's past 3am and I still find that I miss
the person that I haven't ever met- as if
that is something I should try to confess
instead of staying here where I only obsess
as the world falls apart and there is nothing
left to remember not even the memories
of her kiss
I am alone in the dark, there is nothing left
not even the regret, I am adrift, bereft.

The sun is going to still rise and fill this room
as if I can escape my fate, as if hope can exist
as if the pages of my blogs and posts and trolled
comments will erase it all, I can despise this
passion, I can escape my doom.
I will fall into the longness of sleep
with out doubts, without betrayals
without even my tears to weep.