find you awake

nights ago, delirious, everything flashed in psychic trials of truth. i kept the window open for the cool air on my sheets, like my father, if only i could've been collected like him. there instead, a vacuum of hopelessness, sometimes the carrot rots and everything a human being is working toward disappears. sometimes purpose is relative to courage and belief in an elusive unknown. sometimes while things are shifting, the best job is to endure. trusting time, the most uncertain element, also salvation. i write this on the floor. humbled and beginning, returned, like claws on a jungle cat.