For all those friends with whom life gets in the way. For some reason I've been dreaming of them a lot lately.

The things I remember:

Curtains closed on us some time ago. 

It seems all that we know becomes less,  

As time slinks onward and we increase,   

This old war. 

See who can crack before.   

Is this Radio silence,

For the facebook age?

Talk to me.

When we’re losing who we should be.  

If you don’t ask I won’t tell.  

But I’ll make you pay dearly,

For the same.

It is the politics of shame,

That we could go that way too,

The way of other fallen friends.

Causes doubt,

It wasn’t forever it turns out.

All these things I don’t remember,

Exist every night only in,

These old dreams.