Recipient of Singed Seams

My thoughts are a cacophony
of choruses ringing
inside a layer of haloed voices,
they cut like lasers coming around
to shine upon my mind’s eye
so loud along the edges
scorching too quickly to turn away
I stand, taking the heat.

I see the world outside my window
screen light haunts me,
reflecting all that I am
and all that I am not,
I fade away in a spotlight
I become a channel
the voices turning to you
recipient of singed seams
attempted escape causing friction.

My gut wrenches
tightening on sour words
held fast for fear of falling,
no one knows what is in the darkest night
except for my little halo and me,
each revolution burns a little brighter
the voices are getting tighter
acerbic points jab my temples
leaving wounds that all can feel.