The Dissolve Grind (a poem)

Friday, September 19, 2025

the end of me, the end of us,
dissolving into it all.
opposition is the way —
the embrace, the push through the bullshit.
afraid of nothing, yes-man, Jim Carrey level,
give yourself over: the theater, the dance,
the present, the public beating of words,
the band, the rhythm — step up the time, you’re lagging.

another coffee, the little freedoms,
enough rope to hang yourself with.
capitalist reads me: deviant, derailed,
an economic juvenile, expel or deport.
stat.

move the cancer cells, careful prayer.
we just got caught in a culture war,
gone beyond metaphor.

small rebellions like teaspoons,
daylight stolen between shifts,
the quiet theft of breath.

we laugh to keep from naming it,
drink to keep our mouths busy,
while loud machines tally verdicts.
another coffee, another little freedom —
contraband, tender, dangerous, true.

anything in the way,
anything hollowing us out,
anything contrary, any friction —
we mow right over.

steel teeth of progress,
churning through dissent.
the path clears not by peace,
but by pulverizing.

we call it unity,
but it sounds like grinding.
we call it destiny,
but it tastes like dust.

erase the mind worms,
bring out the neuralizer.
we all look into the black glass,
eyes wide, memories scrubbed,
and come out peddling the same lies.

chorus of amnesia,
ritual of forgetting —
this is how the story repeats.

truth diluted into spectacle,
obedience sold as light.
erase, erase,
and sell the silence back to us.

(image credit, unsplash)