To the preacher bench May I confess Barbells clang in rhythms A choir's hymn Melted sounds of gym Giving in to fatigue Your only sin
Sweat like holy water May it wash over my soul Muscles led to slaughter Still yield an empty hole Loneliness being lifted by Crushing back rows And wide grip pull-ups "Are you crying, bro?" "No, it's my fat burner. Shut up."
My calloused hands Cry for more Than company of cast iron plates Or protein Or a steel-bent core Yet a yearn for another No matter the weight