lost with words

it's messy,
this language
of this world,
the only wheel I have
to learn to use
to shape the life I think I want;
to stand each time
at the edge of a world
I want to die to,
to speak every song
that calls out to me
from somewhere,
and to stand there
stripped to my bones,
my flesh burnt and gorged
by the deathly silence
of an impending echo
of rejection or love.