Not mice

There is a scratching inside the walls
Partnered with occasional moans
I tell myself that it's mice

But mice aren't the reason I keep to the center of the bed
They aren't why I tuck myself in tightly
Mice don't taunt you in the small hours
Chattering like teeth about bone dust
Wetly mouthing your exposed toes
Leaving itchy slime down your leg

Like mice, these things have tails
I see them as they snake through my doorway
But the light is so low
And my head still fuzzy
And they move so fast
That I convince myself I'm seeing things
And go back to sleep