Cavernous, Winding

I am the sickness that creeps up the stairwell,

I am the bile that burns down your throat.

I speak in the patterns of the carpet,

And listen through the paint on the walls.

I will suffocate you with poisoned breath,

Breathing through a web of ducts and vents;

And in the night you will always feel

My lifeless pulse warming the floorboards.