An Agent Will Be With You Shortly. Please Have A Seat

Along a current of confusion, which feels like open humiliation and looks like rage a ship of dreamtexts comes calling.
One mouth enclosed them, like a venus flytrap without lipstick, and wouldn’t even swallow.
Another mouth’s teeth tore into them, breaking their fruitskin, revealing ripe meat.

A question of submission is posed.
There is this question.
Opting out is not a choice.
Only to what, whom.