Scratching in the Walls

I jolt awake, mind foggy in protest,

My heart thudding loud and wild inside my chest,

The sound of scratching and a writhing silhouette,

Fills my soul with a dread I'll never forget.

I grope in the dark, my hand in search of the switch,

Trembling with anticipatory fear to light up the pitch,

The darkness fades away, light piercing the pall,

Revealing Lilliputian alligators, swarming up my wall.

Their tiny claws scratch the plaster,

Their beady eyes look for disaster,

Their scaly skin aglow in the light,

Their long tails ridged with spite.

Heading for a microscopic crack with single-minded focus,

Crawling over each other in a ruthless Mobius,

They disappear behind it, never again to be seen,

But the sound of their scratching remains in my dreams.

The creatures are gone, but the fear remains,

The sound of them scratching deep in my veins,

It lingers in my mind, a sound that won't cease,

A reminder of the alligators in the walls of my lease.