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.