Go down in history,
Twenty twenty three,
Hungryst year of my Life,
Rather died at birth,
I lived so my cats survive,
My one great joy is to write,
Any to share the night with my adopted sister Ruth,
No coin is in my pocket ,
December twenty three the US government took $300 from my check social security check after sending me a letter saying they were taking $164,
Middle of the month,
My landlord who when he was helping me said he was doing it because sometimes you help people you know sent me a bill for $300,
I told him I’d pay it off over time,
For January my bill had been added to two hundred dollars,
So instead of paying $500 I’m to pay $700,
then cell,
Again no money for heat I owe them $120,
no money for gas,
no food,
no life,
no cat food,
no reason to survive,
I sent the landlords wife a note,
I will give $50,a check until I find work and can pay it off faster,
I will never allow him to help me again,
I have to get rid of my carpet,
Its been ruined,
I need a carpet knife I will move it out bit by bite,
If it kills me,
Corey being a good guy is to rich for my blood!
If I am not able to get back on to Medicaid the us government will give me $800,Instead of the $968 since January I was getting,
Am not surviving,
This was my first home,
All I love is inside,
I’ll get a copy of my bill,
Take a picture of this bill not yet physical and attach it in the hole then my readers will see,
Seven hundred and four for January,
For people working it is nothing,
For me its my life,
January first cannot come to soon,
Cupboard of this poet’s bare except for books,
Val Whitewolf 