No Friends

Recently my mind has lamented,
That I no longer truly have friends,
More a rogues gallery of acquaintances,
A revolving door of faces,
Past photos with actors vanishing,
Memories growing more indistinct,
And a painfully icy feeling of seclusion,

It’s a curious kind of solitude,
I have family,
And the love of my life,
Warm aegises to preserve my life under,
Yet all else is cold and barren,
A vacuum of unread messages and meetings dubious,
Existence drags away comrades of old and repels new cohorts,

In this dingy opium den I reside,
I find myself gazing outside wistfully,
I recieve no calls,
And feel no inclination to brave the cold myself,
A vicious circle made of photoframe shards,
Loneliness begets loneliness,
Until it becomes all I am.