It is a sin
A stain on your hands
A shadow pulled from the wall
Formless as it breathes down your neck
Or a blot of ink on a page
And the lead of a pencil
Charcoal dust smeared across the page
It tastes of licorice and ashes
After the coal is burnt
And it's the coal before
The pressure of a million years
Makes it something more
It's the quiet soul
That looks up to the stars at night
Wondering about the galaxies and black holes
Pondering the universe and its mysteries
Watching the eclipse that brings the world into
Darkness
And it's sleep
Or the abyss
Of course
It's also
Bad luck
Bad karma
Witches
And magic
Black cats
Breaking mirrors
Walking under ladders
Spells
And don't forget
Unlucky number
Thirteen
It's mascara and eyeliner
Or war paint
Though sometimes I think
That's the same thing
A blind date
With a tux and a little dress
Running his fingers through her silky hair
Breathing out lies
I love you
Turns into mail no one wants to get
And bruises and darkened eyes
And all those other things
It's all that too
Stripes and old photos and tinted windows
A little dot.
