Depression

Everywhere I go these days
I see overwhelming sadness,
A grieving for how bad things are,
How far elation has fallen
Into the psyche's sodden bilge.
The ungainly step of those treading downward,
The faraway eyes that never focus,
The heave of resolute exhaustion--
These are signs, the indicators,
The whispering midges of distress
That tell me the worst is yet to come.
The infection is buried, under the skin,
Unreachable itches, the soul's pruritus,
Damnation in a steady state,
Wrath and provocations to violence,
Misery channeled through concrete and glass,
The odor of diesel, the rumble of dumptrucks . . .
And all we can do is await the end
As we lie here calmly in our graves.

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Lovely, amazing, so very true.