Depression

Darling, dearest,
please, wait, don't go.
Tell me, have you been well?

The world is moving on
on its own accord,
a thousand miles an hour.
Have you ever felt
the spinning centrifuge, or
have you always held on?

I lost my place today,
the world left me behind.
flung head first into
desolate, infinite space;
no light, or hope, or life--
yet
like the seconds before falling
into deep sleep
the emptiness, whole,
the darkness, universal,
the silence, and I

in negative decibels,
one is left alone
with the sound of blood
rushing, pounding
voices, questions
asking, pleading--
yet
do you hear the sound
of a lonely piano melody?

She plays on a spinning record
happy tunes on smooth ivory,
a dusty, gray memory,
her back turned, and the record,
spinning, spinning, fading away.

Thank you for listening.
Now may I take your hand?