My roof is leaking. He was supposed to fix it in April.

My eyes are leaking. I was supposed to fix it in April.

I’m urinating from my eyes. But I can hear the sounds of
the dribbling polluted piss,
flow through the cracks of my broken ceiling,
and fall from the beginning of the endless sky.

And it’s comforting.  It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one who’s taking a piss.