RAYMOND SIGIMET

This unpleasantness again I fear is here
An unwelcome guest into my house 
Who stands still, quietly, at my back 
On tired floors squeaking like a mouse
Caresses me soft behind my neck 
The whispered sounds burn in my ears 
And chill the blood coursing through my heart 
Causing my eyes to look behind my skull
A fruitless search that piques no sense
Only to see and hear nothing instead
But this unwanted visitor’s presence 
Who still follows and will never part