Stranger in Your House

Sometimes you feel it tucking on your feet

As you lay in bed,

& on the edge it takes a seat.

It knocks on your door,

but lives in your home

& about the hallways

it does creakingly roam.

Has a key to which you did not give,

& in secrecy it does live.

It is near, but is it even nearer?

In the crevices between the floor boards,

or between the wrinkles of your un-ironed bedsheets?

No, no that is deceit.

Not in your house,

in your mind.

This is where the fear aligns.

The singing between synapses,

that live within us.

& when your eyes roll back,

you can see the house it built.

Just turn your head,

then not beside you.

But within,

just like you.

A next of kin.