3.12.06

Tristia 3.2





Nec mihi, quod lusi uero sine crimine, prodest,
quodque magis uita Musa iocata mea est


I fucked around in poetry
not life
bookworm

pale as putty
the voyage nearly killed me
storms

& seasickness & crap
to eat
but I survived it

all
why? I
cry

like snow in spring

No comments: