to the man who sees ghosts during daylight: the world is out to get you. stand up, you get restless lay down, you get robbed of your pride. you're still a man, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. you can hear people's secrets, see their thoughts form into words so real that you can touch them, taste their color. you read so many people, but to them, you are invisible, so you shout. you scream their hate back at them, laugh when they finally see you, watching you anxiously, surprised that they too can be judged by someone as lowly as a man who makes a home out of a park bench.