Corrosively Imagining

 

I sold the one thing I should not,
Some Thing that I had not.
I traded nothing, in exchange for
Writing my own life’s script,
I was instantly granted
Each and every wish,
I was corrosively imagining
I had seen through the mist.

When I found out that
Who I advocated was
What’s in the details,
I stole the one thing I should,
What I had sold.
Since that meant
I’d steal nothing,
I got back my soul.

By Coy Bo

It was 9 AM, and I was rocketing down the street on my wobbly truck at a hundred miles per hour.
I rocked white karate pants and an all black shirt.
I couldn’t stop sobbing that morning.
I turned into the street without looking, and almost got hit.
I was just off of my third consecutive sleepless night.

“Asshole!”

I was shoved from my board, as a stroller pushing heavy-set woman in all black looked on.
I tumbled in a fantastic fashion. She watched me expectantly.
I looked behind me for my assailant to no avail.
I tried to say something, but couldn’t explain my situation.
It wasn’t me who had fallen!

“Are you okay?”

I had to move on, find a cigarette, and get okay.
So, I jumped back on my board and hammered the ground with my foot, quickly losing sight of her.
Once again, my board came out from under me as if by magic.
A woman dressed in all black led her son around me.
It must be school time.

“What happened?”

I gotta go to the park to… meet someone.
The woman nodded knowingly and almost winked.
I couldn’t imagine why, but these people were connected.
I skated to the park to find it empty except for one man.
He had a huge white afro in tree pose on top of a concrete block.

“Hello young man.”

I recognized him as somebody that would lend a helping ear when I was in need.
We had played many games of hacky sack and smoked many bowls of medical-grade cannabis.
He gave me a cigarette, and we sparked up a bowl.
His metal pipe had a metal-ball chain that didn’t quite line up with grooves around the whole perimeter.

“I can make it stand.”

Cool trick, I thought.
It looked like if I just pushed those two balls together as I set it down.
But, when I tried it, No dice.
We decided to sit down, and he took the role of counselor.
A lot of shit had happened, i was glad to have him there.
I had to tell somebody, anybody.
I would just tell him some basic detail, and see where that got me.
People say that a friend of mine committed suicide.

“I once attempted suicide.”

The realization that we are all one brought him back.
He describes how he tried to kill himself, to push his head into an oven.
What a way, I think, though something doesn’t sit right.
I can’t help but notice his hand motion as though he were pushing someone else’s head into an oven.
He’s saying that it gets easier over time.
He’s saying that everybody has to go through it eventually.

“Life goes on.”

All things seek balance, I say, only balance itself, seeks imbalance.
I tell him my theories on balance in the universe,
and my friend asked me if I knew that I was describing the Dao.
I told him that I didn’t realize.
I’m outwardly calm, but my mind whirls.
A woman dressed in black pushes her stroller up to us.
The same one.

“meaning seeks obscurity”

A spunky and eager child contorts his face, so I show him a mirror on my face.
He doesn’t get it, or I didn’t do it quite right.
His mother takes a phone away from her ear and asks me if I need any help.
I need another cigarette, but I just thank her politely.
The man with the white afro would let me roll one.
Does anybody have a lighter?

“Is that a spark of recognition?”

I suddenly become aware of my surroundings.
Over 20 people in the park notice my becoming aware of them.
I can tell by the little movements they made when I jolted.
Their behavior changes according to me, I can feel the control.
Warning brain waves wash through my mind, this isn’t right. Something’s wrong.
I’m bleeding from my palms again.
I numbly accept a bandaid from a woman who had been to and back from the Drug Store.
She gives me a water bottle.
Someone passes me another hit of weed.
The blue and red glass pipe houses a half-burnt bowl once I pass it on.

“We’re very organized.”

I probed, to see it these people were untouchable mentally.
They each individually had a presence that could fill up a room.
Here I was, slowly feeling my own precense dominate the attention of the early morning park goers.
The men here were solemn, and the women walked through the park purposefully.
They all had their own part in the greater scheme of things, and they needed not question it, as I did.

“We want to help you.”

The man with the white afro caught my own attention, and purposely glanced over to his right.
My eyes follow his gaze directly to where a police car starts their cruiser out of park.
Who were these people, and who was I to them?

“Can I draw on your board?”

This guy looks different.
He was dressed in a wife beater and saggy jeans.
His manner of speaking was cool as ice, charismatically joking with the people around me.
He was clearly uncivilized on purpose, and it was working for him.
Oh shit, he didn’t have any markers.
So I went with him to the store.
We walked loudly, bouncing around quite a bit.
People wouldn’t look at us, so we stuffed markers into our pockets.
We were balling now.

“Have a nice day.”

We sat down outside the store, and he opened up a pack of markers.
The piece he started on my board was intricate.
My mind went to roman artists and architects.
The letters came alive. He had a lived in feel, like he had been as such for a quite some time.
The way he talked about a couple of chicks he had been fucking around with eased out effortlessly.
He smiled and laughed, they were on his hook, and they loved him.
Despite what he said, who wouldn’t love this guy?
We headed back to the park.
The people there spooked me, but they introduced me to one dope writer.

“Hey Asshole, you’re not welcome here.”

I wouldn’t leave, after being ask multiple times, in a way I couldn’t.
There were kids in the park. The man in front of me struck me in the face, so I left.
But it must have been that they kicked me out of the park, because I had work to do.
I had to be careful not to betray myself to the people around me, I had work to do.
I would win over everyone and anyone around me.
I saw a bank and pointed to the sign.
I saw it as ba. I said it, sheepishly.
It became funny.
I made the joke, loudly,
to passerbys, but it was clearly lost on those sheep.
I was dopey, and a predator for attention.
The perfect circumstances to be completely ignored in a city.
I was ill-literate and in considerate.
People didn’t get the joke.
That’s not on me.

“Do you need a ride?”

Here I was, scamming the gas attendant out of his quarters.
Back into the car with the…
broiest bro of them all..
How did I meet this joker?
Maybe he was taking me home?

it was dark outside.
I walked to the bar barefoot.
A car parked in front had something of mine.
I opened the door, and got inside.
I wanted a squak mix, but the radio inside the car wouldn’t turn on per my intentions.
On the floor of the seat next to me, I saw a Dick’s takeout bag.
My mood changed instantly.
That is heroin.
I couldn’t bear to look inside.
It brought me to tears.
A friend of mine died from that.

“Do you have ID?”

I started to wander into the bar to find her.
She was so cute, like a little blind puppy.
Before I got through the restaurant, a waiter approached.
I didn’t have shoes or an id.
I raised my arms and put astonishment on my face.
It felt familliar, as if I had been doing a lot of it today.
Scoffing and shaking my head at the incompetence of it all, i walked out of the restaurant.
The waiter went away, writting me off, so I went back in.
This time I got even closer before being shooed out.
I suddenly realized she wasn’t in there, anyways.
She wasn’t anywhere, anyways.

I made my heart broken, or saw it to be, pulling the reality shields from my eyes.
I faded back in and out again of sense.
I pictured her fumbling her way towards me as if blindfolded,
for ages and ages, thinking she wanted to kill me,
though once I were in her grasp, she would press an explosion of a kiss against my lips.

“I love you. I have loved you. I will love you”

A promise of more, after only aeons in which to stare straight through my eyes into my soul.
I felt a familiar burn in my chest, for which I am a junkie.
Thinking about her in this way, does this for me.
Yet tears welled up in my eyes.
Deep down, I knew she was gone for good.
I made my way up the hardest hill there is, back home.

“Are you okay?”


My mom’s next door neighbor looks at me oddly, I say some things, then head to bed.
It was a pass out kind of midnight.
The next morning, or was it, I recount realizations to my mother.
That doesn’t go over well.
I had been gone for two days?
That didn’t go over well, either.
I can’t not agree to go to the hospital, unfortunately.
I couldn’t stop talking throughout the whole exam, always one step ahead.
I knew what they wanted, coherence, but that was not the nature of the understandings I had gained.
So there I sat, wilting, sucked dry, zombified, and slowly losing the wonders I had ascertained, in favor of jazzercise each morning.
I would ‘recover’ in a fortress made of sand, a control center, a brain and living system.

“What happened next?”

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