It’s true:

I almost never smile,

but that doesn’t mean I’m not in love:

my heart is that black violin played slowly.

You know that moment late in the solo when the voice is so pure you feel the blood in it:

the wound between rage and complete surrender.

That’s where I’m smiling.

You just can’t see it—

the sound bleeding perfectly inside me.

The first time I killed a vampire I was sad:

I mean we were almost family.

But that’s so many lives ago.

I believe in the cry that cuts into the melody,

the strings calling back the forgotten world.

When I think of the madness that has made me and the midnight I walk inside—

all day long:

when I think of that one note that breaks what’s left of what’s human in me,

man,

I love everything