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