They stain the walls.
Three black spots relentless
against the white backdrop.
I follow just one. Another dwells,
lingers - as its allie drops from view.
It weaves an invisible labrynth: purposeless.

At face, a simple enough fix.
A swift, unflinching hand
to brush away the blemish.
Yet, legs abstain. Want no part
of what is sure to come.
After all, They might well crawl away.