A Dystopian Mc donalds  Toilet Steals My 
 Agency.  Too Much Agency Already In This 
 Room. Saturated. I Can  Only Do  What It 
 Wants    In    The    Way   It    Wants. 
                                          
                                 
                                          
 But:  In  A  Miracolous  Fraction  Of  A 
 Second,  Its  True Thoughts Slip Through 
 To Me,  Previously Unheard  Even  By Its 
 Builders  (The  Room Was Thought  To  Be 
          Without Consciousness).         
                                          
 The Room  Thinks  About  Creatures Lying 
 Down,  Going   Off   To   Sleep,  Making 
  Themselves Comfortable First... Is This 
 Only  Optimizing  A Resting Position For 
 The  Body?  Or  Is  There  Another  Will 
                Involved?                 
                                          
      A Dark Listening Taking Place,      
            A Silent Concert.             
                                          
 Is  There  Another  Desire  Injected  At 
   Hypnagogia? Something From The Other   
           Side, Guiding Them,            
          Arranging Their Bodies.