"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.