the helium inside

please be quiet, thief
as you swindle, swipe, and pussyfoot
and open teeth that slither words like
knives into a creamy belly
you stab and slice and call for help
so no one knows the bloody truth
and while you wait between siren cries
a fleshy pink flab of dripping tongue
combs through the lines of a notebook page
and hunts for loathsome crumbs of words
to spill on an unsuspecting world like
a pistol in a tight coat pocket
firing rounds into a spiritless heart
reveal the stench
saturate the source of all that is rich
some hot afternoon, you will surely find
that no one cares about the helium inside
you will try to pull passion right out of the air
but you can’t create anything that’s not already there

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