(The Suspicious Oracle shifts in their booth, then stands from the table to sway into the light. They sweep the dust from their clothes and flash a smile.)

It's been noted. Oh,
my observation is go.
Perceptive circuits
caught the web
where it stretches
overhead.

Words, words, words,
beautiful pontifications
Words, words, words
eloquent romanticisms
of the empathy empty.         n.            devoid

(The Suspicious Oracle removes a bill from their coat and presents it to the audience.)

In blood these names list
the elite who seem to
herd together,
and at the gate
keep the risen.                           .
                                                       .
                                                        .
     ­                                                                 ­               .clean

The searing ray of
justice past due
will melt the
chains save
freedom
for the
few

You are not much of a talker
Maybe that's what has gotten into me
Having to look you in the eyes every time you spoke
Reaching for the words you wouldn't slip
Like a treasure hunt
At the bottom of the ocean
Never much oxygen to breathe yet enough heart beat to keep from suffocating
And if I could stick my hand beneath my skin
I would rip you
Like another dissonant string in the middle of a perfect pitch
Pull you out of my ribs and sit away in silence
Tracing back the days to that one night
You caught my neck between your teeth
Bit your venom right into me and left
The way you leave every burning temple
Like a fucken coward
Afraid the fire would burn further than the back of your hand
Or the broken glass would cut deeper into the side of your eyebrow
And I know I've got both your fears buried inside of me
Ready to sting
But they would never tear you apart
Not the way you're tearing me
In silence