crack poems

I am better
crazy
in that red
on cars.

I understand
the path
my mind wanders,
now I am dead

space.

----

sweet kiss,
more than
three-day-wake
breath.
her sour
under tow,
second hand
smoke
in my room.

----

I don't think of him
as my ex
I don't think
of him. He went
to the farm,
plenty of room to run around
and decide
who we are
for each other.
Room to breathe
and embrace
and forget.