Dear Diary #18
By Marty Lloyd Woldman
My baby got stoled by an astronaut. Ain’t nothing good can come from their kind. They’re too enamored with the void and it sucks out all that were human. Deader now than when the cold hits their blood to ceasing. Now on is a course of nothing and filth and theft and ain’t nobody’s baby safe from their astral blight.
I oughtta pack it in and find my way back to the center of the earth: somewhere wholesome what can plug me straight into the ore. What can make me blood course through the very crush of the planet. Because I’m from here. And I ain’t got no interest in making my escape. I ain’t no earth traitor. God bless. Fuck the rest.