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.