Black Holes Poem by Bera Tremoz

There are no bad people
in Renee's life
just bad pinheads,
and here they go
talking about suspensions
drifting into questionings
the existence of speech patterns
in fish
and next to me hangs around her
cellphone
sketching her wooden earrings,
music notes, and sometimes
when you're by yourself
amongst mates discussing
philosophical schoolbooks,
that focus you try to hold on those
dead-end road maps.
those quiet under aged blonds
sitting across the room praying
for redemption,
those fruit flavored
water pipes
still puffing away,
you lose it all
and search desperately for
something to scribble on
cos' all you need to wake up
from the black hole
you just dug yourself in
is write there.