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The morning's here, and I'm alone;

I don't wnat to start this day.

I reach to silence a ringing telephone,

Only to realize I have nothing to say.

My job awaits to rob me of my time,

Working with people who don't appreciate it;

Punching a time card to make the boss another dime,

While I slave away for peanuts: I hate it.



The morning's gone, and I'm still alone;

Time to go to lunch already.

Stupid people parking in a no-parking zone

In the way of traffic that's fast and steady.

I stand in line for my slow-fast food,

Knowing the cashier won't get my order right:

I'm already in a very bad mood,

And there seems to be no relief in sight.



The morning segues into late afternoon,

And I find that the day is gone;

Time to leave work, and not a moment too soon,

Before I get the urge to apply for a clone.

I get home and check my e-mail: more junk:

Even the personal messages seem inpersonal.

I'm finding myself in a very bad funk,

And my life is becoming increasingly dull.



The evening's here, and I'm even more alone;

My heart begins to ache for a woman's touch.

I go for a night on the town with Gina and Joan,

Have a few drinks, share a few laughs, and such.

One of them's cute, the other has a brain;

Combining the two would only meet half of my needs.

Not having what I need is driving me insane,

But there is a major difference between my thoughts and my deeds.



The evening's gone, and I come home alone;

Not a good thing for a young man like me.

I check the messgaes on my useless phone,

And my stereo starts playing a Frank Sinatra CD.

"Old Blue Eyes" ran with the Rat Pack:

He played the consummate ladies' man to the extreme;

He was never alone, companionship was never at a lack;

He lived a life which to me is only a dream.



Loneliness seems to be the only thing

That we can never really escape from;

It consumes you completely unlike anything,

And drops you into depths you can never rise from.

I return to those depths as I crawl into bed,

Resigning myself to another night on my own;

I have to look forward to another day in dread

That I'll have to spend the rest of my life...alone...



Patrick W. Hopkins



First written in late 2001