depression, and other things that make you uncomfortable

If I were visible
you’d see bruising on my brainstem
there would be no skin
the open wounds
of my thoughts
resemble black eyes
lesions on lesions

If I were visible
you’d inject sanity
in my veins
a vile of happy
administered at will

If I were visible
you’d know how to treat me
but the scars have scars
and they are in ruin

I’m rubble
and weeds
a broken down car
discarded

you walk by
averting eye contact
wishing you were on
the other side of the street
I remind you of war

with an outstretched hand
which might be a sigh
a song on repeat
another ‘I lost my job’
you shuffle away still

tell me your secret
we can trade