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

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