Red fuzzies: A damnation in verse

Some egregious yet heartfelt haiku in honor of my new red rug, which flings millions of fuzzy little loose bits far and wide into every single corner of my apartment. Every. Single. Corner.

I can vacuum until my floors shine like the top of the Chrysler building, but there's a parade of red fuzz in the hall an hour later. Good thing the rug is pretty and keeps the floor warm, or it'd be gone in a blazing bonfire by now.

Ahem.

I.
I had such high hopes
You matched everything just right
But you vomit fuzz

II.
I ought to have guessed
That IKEA-born "Ringum"
Had to spell trouble

III.
Round, red, and evil
You invade my very soul
And the bathtub. How?

IV.
Clog up my vacuum
Violate the clean white sheets
Get thee behind me

V.
Damn you, fuzzy foe
As you burn my will away
I'm too clean for this

VI.
You can't fight for long
The Hoover is on my side
Justice shall triumph

VII.
Or maybe physics
But either way, I swear it:
You're going down, red.