The Troubling News Gazette

Tranquility.

Curtains brushed aside and squeezed together by bright red ribbons,

Allowing the sweet sunlight of the day to pour in through the glass of the windows.

Clouds are puffy and take the shape of forgotten dreams,

Constant reminders that it is never too late.

Hummingbirds twitter and bees hum

As they dance in the stringy, uncut lawns of the neighborhood.

All is right with the world.

Without notice, though, it all burns to ash

And the beauty of life comes tumbling down.

The latest print of The Troubling News is fresh off the press,

And the paperboy smacks you across the neck with the heat of your own personal copy.

"Enjoy," he says with a smirk

As he rides his bicycle to finish the route that has become so necessary

To the state of our civilization.

Your eyes dart over the first page in realization

And you rush to bang on the front door to beg the paperboy to take it back,

To convince the publisher to make an edit,

To force the company to destroy itself and let humanity just have peace.

But no,

The paperboy is long gone,

And you are left with an ignited newspaper in your shaking hands.

The flame glides up your wrist and tickles your forearm,

Ignoring each of your attempts to slap it away.

The smell of burning flesh tinges your nostrils like a forbidden barbeque,

Stuffing your skull with the clouds of dark smoke as though you are a child's teddy bear

And the heat of overwhelm is your fluffy cushioning.

You hardly notice but your body tumbles to the floor as the fire consumes you,

Oxygen pounding in your temples and pleading that the truth is false.

Your blood bubbles,

Your stomach acid reaches up from its chasm

And soon you're boiling alive

From a single look

At a hopeless page of words.