Glory to the CPSU

The 1920s. The Soviet Union was just beginning its history. Art was experiencing large-scale experimentation and a search for new forms of self-expression.
You were a young poet from a noble family who accepted Soviet power with a sickle at your throat. You wrote in a new style, imitating Mayakovsky, but at the same time, your poems were extremely critical of the Communist Party and the headquarters of the world revolution.
You don't know how or why, but Vyacheslav Mashnov, the main bigwig (after Iron Felix) in the Cheka and a rather tough man, found out about this.
You were invited to Mashnov's office in the Kremlin. Failure to appear was tantamount to signing a death warrant immediately, without prior clarification.
For about a minute, your gaze followed the handsome young man in uniform. His cold blue eyes, with a slight glimmer of something resembling passion, followed you.
"You don't need a modern steamship, you need Solovki," this strange man blurted out with a chuckle. "I'm not going to sort this out with my comrades or decide your fate just yet. But only because you're good in the style of Comrade Mayakovsky. Not for your pretty eyes. What is it about our government that you don't like?" he asks with a grin.