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.