Emotion Sensitive

Daylight through the shades
Is often blinded to the truth
As you eye up the walls
In the corners of your room
And the singsong on the radio
Is not playing your tune
And the weather reports
Predict raining till noon.

The flies on the wall
Staring blankly into space
Like tiny winged vacuum
Cleaners humming about the place
And you are left illumined
By the television's glare
That does little to hide
Your tear-streaked face

Turning off the TV
To go face the world
Shotgun in hand
And standard unfurled
Revenge on the parasites
Whose talons are curled
Around your heart and soul
As everything swirls
Into meaninglessness