I hope one day, and I know this day will come because I'll make sure of it, but I hope one day my sins become visual and cover the walls of a cabin far in the woods, and all my bad deeds will be residual and my soul will be attached to, but not trapped, there. People will come to visit only once or twice a year, but when they do, I'll make the ******* most of it. I'll stay subtle and silent, with gradual motions like a faucet turning on or a door closing in an empty room, and the living visitors will think 'how strange', but it's not strange, what's strange is I've waited for this opportunity hours on end in an afterlife limbo where I'm not entirely dead, but was I ever really completely alive? Here I'm still bound by time and space, and I could go on to forever, but I choose instead to make banging sounds on worldly walls and cause men to be macho and insist this house and these woods are not haunted, but the goosebumps on your girlfriends arms say otherwise, and so do I. But why do I waste my time? Yes, time, here it is again, and therein lies the answer to my question. Time. I have it, I posses it like fingernails or hair and watch it grow to indicate its ongoing forward crawl. Time with its mouthful of gnashing teeth that grind and grind and grind but never wear thin and toothless like a homeless man who humbly smiles at a passing stranger even though they scoff at his politically incorrect poverty, the teeth chomp constantly and rhythmically reminding him and all of us that we cannot escape it, not even in death. So I use this purgatory I've chosen to bother anonymous teenagers who come from far away to these mountains with a lust for adventure and in turn find themselves wondering what these sounds are they keep hearing and why the tv turns itself on and off and the channels change without warning.  I'm telling them 'hey, just because you can't see me doesn't mean I'm not here', and it's not fear from them I want, only for them to understand that an invisible man is handcuffed here and has no hurry to get to hell. I'm just a phantom holding you ransom with my hardship, light the fireplace and I'll help you feel it.