I Believe There Is Nothing Worse Poem by Mark Heathcote

When her cursive tears are joined
And roll on without words
I believe there is nothing worse.
I now have faith that even morphine, opiates,
They will not make me feel, feel any better.

However, I'll try to kiss her-
And wipe those tears away
And take off her clothes real slowly
Before we pass that heaven's gate
And her hairpins have nowhere to live.

I'll testify oh' how, how
My tolerance has grown
But her dependence on me is now gone
Her opioid kisses are always on my mind
They needle me intravenously in her arms.

When her cursive tears are joined
And roll on without words
I believe there is nothing worse.
I now have faith that even morphine, opiates,
They will not make me feel, feel any better.

Better, better than the sun on the mud.
Dry and cracked, waiting to be wet once more.
Waiting to be leaves on the trees
Flower petals on a southerly breeze.
Ah, waiting in the wings for morphine, opiates to pleasantly please again?