‘How to save a life’

Nations beg into the bookstore,
scouring shelves; hearts convulsing
to disjointed rhythms of urgency.
‘How to save a life’ is sold out vacant,
signalling the cue for ragged keens
which resonate off the walls.

I can hear time slipping down
the clock, escaped savage;
systematic order readily
discarded someplace forgotten.
Memory Lane struggles underneath
the weeds that pin her down hopeless,
whilst Melancholy Avenue prides  
itself in being endlessly
popular with the locals.

Sitting vertical on the visitors chair,
imagination cruelly takes his tole;
whilst electricity vibrates my spinal chord,
high pitched worry playing the blues
to my nervous system.
Welling tears answer the question,
how can I save his life?
"You can't".