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.