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