Going Viral Poem by Mark Heathcote

I heard your love is going viral.
And there's no cure.
And a vaccine isn't for all
Because there are many
Who is ready now to fall?

I heard your love is going viral.
And there are stretchers on the floor.
And after midnight, people cry and shout.
I've succumbed to a disease.
A complaint I can't live without.

After midnight, I'm going to scream and shout.
Let my fever break into an even worse disease.
Oh, the problem of love is madness.
After midnight, I'm going to talk in tongues.
And foam at the mouth.

After midnight, there are no escapees.
After midnight, pathological hands
They will be beating and pounding a path to your door.
I don't want to live anymore.
And as I've said, there's no cure.

My viral love after midnight tonight
Let's get married in the fog.
And when the sun rises, let it pass us by.
And eternal night devours my heart, alas.
My viral lover, a vaccine isn't for all; it's more of an epitaph.