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Mercilessly they make unseen attacks.
Hit and run is the name of their game.
Swelling spots as itchy as sandpaper.
Taking your blood is their aim.

Inflamed hillocks on white skin.
Scratching like a flea-bitten cat.
Preventive sprays, antihistamine.
I can’t wait to splat that gnat.

Listening carefully for their buzzing.
Hand held high wielding a swotter.
There’s one on the bedroom wall.
Bang! I got him, the dirty rotter.

Now there’s red marks on the wall.
Where I managed to halt his game.
It was self-defence, I had no option.
Both me and wall are sorry he came.

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