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.