There are no Sundays in the desert.

The sun sets. The sun rises.

My magazine gets empty. My magazine gets loaded.

I get to swallow more sand than ratty dinners.

I follow the news at home. I am sick to my stomach.

This current President is a disgrace. Has no brains and no heart.

All day long he is nothing but a joke. A worldwide embarrassment.

Me and my comrades laugh about him in a sickening way. Not healthy.

And while we sleep in mattresses of sand, he sleeps in a nice comfortable bed.

Waking up at three in the morning to complain he is not being treated fairly.

For my life, I can not understand. This man has not worked a day in his life.

And he is complaining…about what…? He is a full failure, a loser, a nothing.

I find his use of words totally offensive. Rude in the highest degree.

Unintelligent. Speaking a broken English. Incoherent sentences at best.

His presence is abominable. His body language, bloody repugnant.

Inciting his followers to the use of violence.

I could go on and on. But you already know about it.

Love of my life.

Take a warm shower. Light the candle by our bed for a few minutes.

Open the window. Let some fresh air come in.

Read Don Quijote.

And have a good night sleep

Love you.

Ernesto Onofre