A poem about depression

Dent in a mattress stares up

From a hole 3 thousand fathoms deep

Sensing the walls breathing

Listens to stillness’s whirling err

The radiators gurgling conversation with God

White hands extend from a cliff-face

Chalk, to heave up

While the movement of shadow passes time

Traffic and human noise rumble rhythms of a distance

Who once tipped the can at the other side of the globe

Necessitates time travel to go out for teabags

Two people

One of monolithic limbs

Heavy with forgotten knowledge

One flimsy web filament

Quivering with dawn dew

Both halves of a starfish awash with wonder

This is a poem I wrote about being depressed.  I guess about being in a room over an extended period of time listening to the noises of the room while feeling completely detached and separate to the outside world.  The 'two people' are just the one person, but the nature of the depression made me feel simultaneously old and heavy, burdened with knowledge and insight about the world that was both useless and upsetting, while also fragile and 'quivering'.  Too delicate, too frail to expose myself to the outside world.  

I felt myself as the absence, the 'dent'.  But also, as the starfish.  I like the image of starfish lying prone and sprawled, washed ashore, vulnerable out of water, but also for the starfish's ability to regenerate, to come back to life after being cut.   I used 'wonder' as my word for depression or sadness.  I was overwhelmed more than anything else by all the possibilities of the life around me.

It's by no means perfect, I'm no poet.