Chryses

my penultimate day of work. i ate a breakfast of breakfast. tacos that were overcharged and leaked onto my vestments. last night there was a mock scandal involving a temptress that never knocked on the door, and two undercooked potatoes. an artificial sweeteners.

from Pope's translation of the Iliad:

Mine is thy Daughter, Priest, and shall remain,
And Pray'rs, and Tears, and Bribes shall plead in vain;
And Age dismiss her from my cold Embrace,
In daily Labours of the Loom employ'd
Or doom'd to deck the Bed she once enjoy'd.