Bite your nails, moonlight drips like mercury
across the fretboard; each tooth-mark a black key
that never learned to scream.
Rust blooms where your cuticles were,
tuning the silence to drop-C sorrow.
Spit out the steel, let it ring—
a harmonics of pulse and porcelain.
We dance on the barline, barefoot,
counting 7/8 heartbeats till dawn.
Swallow the echo, hide the blood under gain;
the solo ends when the fingernail ends—
but the nailbed keeps writing verses in red.