September 18^th, 1978

My Love, My Light, My Sabrina!

Cambodia has not been the same since you left, my dearest Darling! War no longer slakes my manly thirst. Now, I crave a much more violent and divine elixir! It is YOU! I must have you before my loins burst their fleshy prisons! Come back to me, Sweetest! For I will build an entire city in your stunning and sexy honor! And the town’s artists will construct for you beautiful statues in your heavenly likeness—else I will cut off their hands for blasphemy and force them to cauterize the wounds with the flaming timbers of their family’s ancestral home. And once the statues and monuments that herald your unparalleled beauty and creamsicle thighs (my loins almost burst again!) are erected (there they go!!) I will yolk the populace in the slavery of your whims. What amuses you, my Pumpkin? A legless boy wrestling a priest? You shall have it! A homosexual dragged through the streets by his testicles? Oh, that and so much more! Name your desires and I will ruthlessly enact them!

How your absence tortures me! I am like that legless boy, pummeled and suplexed by an unwilling priest compelled by martial force to eviscerate the boy’s spleen with his bare hands! I can almost feel the crippled boy’s pain, nerve by nerve—although not quite. Please, my Beauty, remove my loins from the vice-grips of your insatiable love!

Return to me!

Your Slave and Despot,

Pol Pot