I just heard something-
Like a snake in the wall
A hiss then a thump.
I wonder if it was a rat
I thought they were dead.
I wish they were dead.
I'm so sick of constant
fear of my house, the
anxiety of the grisly 
undercurrent,
running through
the walls and making
The floor shake.
I'm sick of the thudding
under my ribs which
painfully quickens
as I stare out the
black, transparent windows
from the lit utility room
into the darkness beyond.
I hate how exposed I am there.
I'm sick of the chairs in the
the loft which, when you
are not there, softly roll.
Or the printer screetching
A print even though no one is
There to print!
I'm terrified of your ashes
sitting silently above me.
Maybe it's me though
And not this house.
Perhaps I am
just paranoid.