The raccoons on this Kentucky farm formed a quagmire. They're wild thieves embedded in the ecosystem. Irreplaceable valuables are erased in the cover of night. The farmer offers to negotiate with the masked vermin. A raccoon response results in scramble trash, they say they've got a birthright from the past. Wits end is where dog ownership begins after the adoption of a rabid dog that only sees death. Regret rocks raccoons wrestling with Cerberus but there's no turning back, Cujo is chained in their yard.  Hellhound terror leaves spellbound hares abandoning their warrens until only reddened raccoons remain with their canine warden.

Lamenting the loss of liberty, a revolutionary raccoon resolves to romp around. The dog of damnation's laser locked bloodlust focuses on the rodent-like rebel. Charging like a rocket out of its launcher, the driven dog is lured from its isolated den. This game of cat and mouse has magnanimous stakes reaching across the farmer's lake.

The rebellious raccoon runs rapidly from the rabid ravenous Rover. The runner dips and dives through cover to avoid the teeth of the other. A snapping jaw matches the movements of the juking and cutting critter. Inside of a hollow tree becomes the raccoon's destination, he enters and ascends, the snarling snapper chasing in after him.

Death's embrace seems certain for the raccoon as the hound's teeth shave the edge of its fur, but at that point the fatter can go no further. The hound's blinding bloodlust vanishes upon realizing it's stuck. Its unwavering rage turns into panicked fear once it realizes its end is near. The raccoon revels in the dog's misery, enjoying watching it slowly starving.

The raccoons revelry is rebuked once the dog just starts staring at it. They both stare at each other, unblinking, waiting for the other to die. Neither of them willing to move an inch for fear of accidentally helping the other. Both willing to die to ensure their opponent's death. The hollow facade that saved the raccoon now becomes its tomb. Defeat and death act as a sedating punishment for the dog's aggression. Fierce foes drink the poison of resentment as they both accept their demise while staring into each other's eyes.

Driving down the freeway in Kentucky, there are only a couple exits people expect you to take. Lexington or Louisville,
pick one. Otherwise, what specific business
do you have going on in Sadieville?

I'm one of the unknown exitters
living 20 minutes off the Mt. Zion Road exit.
No one gets off this exit but me
onto a lonely drive through the trees.

I live off an exit where the vultures eat the dead, then perch on the trees that are dead, deceased in defeat under the feet that eat.
The graves of unknown soldiers lie buried beneath
convenience stores. The storefront sign says open
but the discordance inside is close.

Wandering in the wilderness
while the wind whistled my sins
you joined me in Union
after you missed the right exit.

Voices from the nether sent you letters saying things are better up north. My box on the side of the road holds notes that were
written with the intention of being read, but they're just
thrown out with the junkmale instead.

You burned too hot and I burned too much
in a snare I was caught once you abstained from touch
You were all I had, this isn't New York City
how many people am I supposed to have with me?

150 years ago, brother fought brother over the lives of their brothers here. Not much has changed since then.
A grave robber's eyes are seen in the faces of
wanderers. Welcomes only last until usefulness has passed.

You kept driving through
I wish I could exit too
but will Ohio be any better?
Once you find out send me a letter.

Chasing darkness
surmising depth lies in the depths
trenches are dug in craters
the holes we dig make us special
so we keep on digging.

Subterranean cranium
head in the sand—soul buried in soil
paying the undertaker in advance
the shovel feels lighter once it's smoothing the dirt
guarding the top of the grave.

Coffin solitude
dormant tears loosen the Earth
         the clay dam breaks
jailbreak mudslide
birthed from a muddy womb
crying, gasping for air.

We cleanse ourselves in the healing waters of time
donning our Sunday best for church
joining the choir boys standing at Jesus' feet
singing a chorus of denial
"I never asked for this".

Wading in an eddy
waiting for edification
outside a rampart levee
lamenting lack of levitation
seeing my sedentary station

has me swimming stationary
where the mud is kicked up
spreading a murky brown mist
anywhere I happen to touch anything.

The white water rapids look pure
—at least from where I'm floating
turbulence is welcome at this point
yearning to leave my mudslide broth.

Estranged from strangers
I call out for help
only to receive hell
until I'm tangled in kelp.

A barrier towers over my totality
pedestrians travel on the other side
traversing toward the other sidewalk
avoiding contact—or maybe loneliness

none of them approach the water's edge
they build walls as a protective hedge
shielding them from the precarious ledge
and those that float in the eddy beyond it.

While I'm floating in heaven
My alarm hits eleven
From sins numbering seven
My transcendence is threatened

I lower my elevation
To experience sin
Giving empty stimulation
Where I don't really win

I fair in heights
50 below Fahrenheit
Like an imperiled kite
Flying a feral flight

Living in the clouds
I hear a thunder sound
So I look around
To see I'm lightning bound

A burn immense
From a herd of dense
Turbulence
Into descent

The gravelly ground
Wears gravity's crown
It starts grabbing me down
Until I'm gradually drowned

The weight is too much
And I sink into the dirt
I say enough is enough
Then perpetuate hurt

I couldn't fly
So I rule below
I'm not gonna lie
I wish I could go

Our world passes another at close range
we can see the inhabitants of the other world
waving to us—planning on passing through
but our gravitational fields switch
and we fall into each other's worlds
seeing the beauty of what the other has experienced
before we hit the ground.

After harmlessly crossing your border
          you take our friendship hostage
guarding your perimeter with sandbags of arbitrary etiquette
a no man's land of manners separates us
   you snipe from your defensive position
              so I retreat and start strategizing.
Consulting my generals to discuss your tactics
  they advise me to start stockpiling weapons
                and to start looking for weaknesses.

There is a counteroffensive to your intentions.
            While you were destroying my satcoms
a successful infiltration of your command center was accomplished.
Once your defenses were understood
           your flanks appeared vulnerable.
                      Blind spots were revealed.

You only sign a treaty once your resources start depleting
then you ignore the rules I'm reading to give me a beating.
          So I'm building up my arsenal and
enriching my uranium in this centrifuge
                             where we spin in circles.
My nuclear option is prepared and capable.
                  Pacifism is more appealing than violence
     but when you try to erase who I am I must take a stand.

Armed with an ability to attack
I get a warhead on my shoulders
               found from old schematics
you shared with me while I fought your enemies.
               They were never thrown away
now they're dusted off and revisited
to make your walls crumble
and incinerate you flag.

Your nation starts hiding from what they were once confiding
                              after my nukes obliterate your infrastructure.
Rebels and runners fill fallout shelters and basement bunkers
                                         hiding from the radioactivity in the air.

Everyone's death equals success proving I'm best
        so I develop a permanent wartime economy
                                      and fire missiles mercilessly.
There's no difference between fighters and civilians
             because some insurgents are chameleons
                                      so I **** them by the millions.
                        The more weapons I get
                        the more needless death
                        until the only nations left standing
are those that have stockpiled weapons of their own.