*****

Midnight.

Stomach and kidneys hurting from tainted food.

Constipated, ditto.

Weeping sores eating into the insides of the nose and irritated respiratory passages from tainted air.

Always sick.

Head and body aching from nightly, deliberate, and scientific remotely monitored, transceiver applied sleep deprivation torture.

Device malfunctioning in a half dozen little ways ~ all of them grouped around prevention of successful publication of works.

Been seen off with a smile and then met unfriendliness on return in about the thousandth location yesterday.

Just been awakened via transceiver, exactly at the point of slumber, EIGHT times in two hours.

Dragging the body back into sitting position yet again ~ to be made fun of via that same transceiver at every deep breath, much less actual physical motion.

That’s how we roll in 2026 in the United States of America, in relationship to our poet of excellence.

Honored? No.

Respected, then? No.

Paid for her little masterpieces? No.

Well, at least published, then, by a respectable firm?

No.

Housed, even?…

Okay, then ~ simply allowed to offer her contribution to her society in poverty-syricken peace?…

This is a joke, right?