Look at the birds of the air

Locking myself in a house I hope's empty
Save me. The key brings the lock to latch
Sounding the violent crash of bolt to brass,
A signal I use to alert haunters
That I'm home, and it's time to scamper off.
But they never do seem to scamper off
Or do any less than threaten me
Behind every door I open and
Within every dark room I can't see in.
They're always behind me, standing, as a rule,
As if verging on confrontation.
I can only spin my head so many times
Before uneasiness sets in. In
Bed too they will lurk and lie in wait
For my dreaming and vulnerable thoughts
To be hoaxed into concern and excitation.
I must try to sleep now but we'll see,
For the worst like to set in at night.