how to not die alone(on hold)

untitled

there is some strange sensation
like gasoline is running down my throat
leaking out of cavities and filling my mouth with
a taste like the highest note of a piano

and it feels recently,  as if the words on an unmarked grave
might be the only things between me
and
swallowing a lit match

or maybe as if my now soggy lungs were
hanging with carnival ribbons
my open chest with music and a spotlight
and as the tents' booing crowd throws rocks

i can already see myself on fire