"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.