Someone was dancing 

 Somewhere that no one dared

 South from France

 In a pond of pussy willows

 As drops in the air

 Came around and splashed

 For a hundred years

 For nothing

 It meant something though

 But that was code.
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What do you do with a drunken sailor

 On the poop deck

 What makes him be that way

 How can a man say

 But he is like washed across the beach

 Dreaming of things that can not be

 All his journeys fantasy

 Commanding the ocean

 Is like commanding the heavens

 A sailor never reaches the shore.
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How can I let you in

 When nothing begins

 And it echos like an echo chamber

 Every time 

 I have a wall

 And I can get stuck to it

 Like velcro

 Somewhat cold this wall

 Like the energy on a wall

 Something flat

 Something strong

 That we can not control.
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I am not free as a butterfly

 Wings don't come with my DNA

 But there are other freedoms

 And other rights

 There are still times in my life

 And the sun can still shine bright

 Faith can fill me

 Hopes can warm me

 Reality can free me

 But that door need to open

 To let it in

 In a way that assures me

 For this comfort is like a beach

 Water rolls in again and again.
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Setting: Inside a dark, echoing bathroom plumbing line, right before a major flushing event.Urine: (Splashing aggressively against the ceramic walls) Look at you, slacking off as usual! I’m in and out of here six times a day, keeping this body filtered and clean. You show up once—maybe twice if the human had a fiber bar—and expect a standing ovation. You're slow, you're heavy, and you take forever to get ready!Poop: (Thudding heavily into the water, sending up a massive splash) Slow? It’s called craftsmanship, you watery amateur! You’re just 95% water and a little bit of leftover urea. You require zero effort. I am the grand finale of a 24-hour digestive masterpiece! I represent the steak, the potatoes, the complex carbohydrates! I have structure. I have presence.Urine: Presence? You mean odor! You completely ruin the atmosphere the second you walk into the room. People have to light matches and turn on exhaust fans just to survive your presence. When I arrive, it’s a quick, polite zip and a wash of the hands. I am civilized.Poop: Oh, don't act so pure. You turn bright neon yellow if the human takes a single multivitamin! And let's talk about urgency—you make the human panic and run like a maniac just because a movie ran over two hours. I have discipline. I give a polite, rumbling warning hours in advance.Urine: (Steaming slightly) I am the frontline defense of the kidneys! Without me, the system shuts down from toxic buildup in days. You're just the stuff the body couldn't even use. You're literally the leftovers!Poop: Leftovers? I am the ultimate metric of gut health! Doctors study my shape, my color, and my consistency on a chart like it's fine art. No one is out here making a "Bristol Stool Chart" for your boring splash patterns.The Toilet Handle: (CLANK)Urine: (Swirling rapidly in circles) Uh oh. Here comes the swirl!Poop: (Sinking into the vortex) See you in the septic tank, water-boy!