Sometimes It Is Everyone's. Sometimes It Is No One's

Starting. It is, does not do anything. I am still sitting here and the time is getting timely. I woke up and I’m still here sleeping. Sometimes I just stay in bed and wonder.

When nakedness came into the room everybody looked down at the floor.

When sirens were the thing we heard above all. Then we knew that time had passed again.

It is when the voice comes. When the voice comes, it speaks, and it tells you things, it says things. Some of them are known. It is a mystery how right it is, in the moment it is. You can watch it. And it’s good to know, even if you do forget.

Sometimes when I wake up, I remember. Sometimes I remember when the voice comes back. Sometimes I remember.

It is good to know, even if I do forget. I can say it twice in different ways. I can be the voice without speaking. The world that is the voice. It's a bird. Construction. The fog. The pen. The sky. Sometimes it’s all mine. Sometimes it’s all yours. Sometimes it’s its own.

There is quiet always standing in amongst it all. It is always it and not it. It is always it in a manner of speaking.