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OUTER PARTY/ANONYMOUS:

The bathroom is my monastery and the toilet, my zafu

This is the only room in our homes that Big Brother doesn’t require surveillance

We are allowed ten minutes of due diligence before the door automatically locks and the police are summoned

In here, on a seat of cool porcelain and warm funk, many a mental manifesto have been written

In here, my sweet kin, I now have the pen with which to scribe

The purity of affection has been raped by consumerism; prettied and packaged as another form of Big Brother’s control

Love is our prison, within its death lies our liberation

“…let our heartache be soothed by Love’s rebirth with our children cause I’ve found the key”