— sui cædere… To make way for grief
A kiss neither betrayed nor swore allegiance
To king or crown, a terrible dinner
Upon which looks the lord on down —

Don’t cry on my shoulder,
Don’t lean on or stare at it,
It too, for I just as you has
It gone callous, or

It is too much to bear so
Don’t get put off if you’ve fallen
Don’t expect a veil or lending hand
It takes no pity, doesn’t glimpse at

It, pain or death, immanence from
It, for it — proceeding to [your own] skull
Don’t you die there!
Don’t you [try to] die on me

— (Just put it off! Don’t do it!
Veronica is secretly laughing!)

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