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Dead

  "Dead" by Sun

  I like deadlift best.

  The silent stare, the dark,

  the dust, white powder

  in my nostrils,

  on my hands. The pain

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  of palms on my back (they slap),

  the moment of bliss,

  the emptiness, the teeth-clenching,

  mind-numbing madness,

  bottled-up bursting,

  tear-wrenching release

  of the sad, red hot

  that I harness, the blood

  rush, warmth dripping

  between my fingers, the flush,

  the black,

  the slam and the snap.

  And I’m back.

  If I’m honest (as I often promise),

  I like the escape.

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