X: The People In The Walls

There are people in my walls.

I can hear them as they talk.

I can hear them as they whisper
As they plot and as they walk.

They're loudest in the kitchen
Where I hear them count their gold
Whilst my fingers, red with tension
Grip a mug of tea gone cold.

I can hear them sharpen arrows
Hear the scrawtch of knives being ground
I can hear them with their prisoners
As they drag them underground.
If I press my ear too closely
To the wall or to the stair
I can pick up what they're thinking
Feel their pulse and sense their stare.
Their minds are all connected
I can sense the one refrain
I can feel it running through me
As they echo through my drain.

I can hear them in my bedroom
When I'm lying all alone
Hear the softly muffled torture
Hear the last despairing groan
I can hear their silent singing
Feel them harry and cajole
Hear them gently test the brickwork
Sense them searching for a hole
I can feel their single thought again
Whilst lying in the gloom
"Kill the man, get the man"
Hear the mantra of my doom.
"Kill the man, get the man"
I can feel the muffled hell
I can hear their knives and arrows
And the muttering of spells.
I can feel the walls vibrating
With the echo of each death
I can feel the condensation
As it slips from every breath
I can hear them in the cavity
I can sense them wanting through
I can feel them pushing inwards
Though I wish it wasn't true
But there are people in my walls
I can hear them.
I can hear them.

And the walls won't hold them for long.