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
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