Soul of skeptic writhes with agonizing torture like a burning man in Dante's Inferno

Soul of skeptic writhes with agonizing torture (like a burning man) in Dante's Inferno Self immolation as sacrificial bleating lamb promises eternal martyrdom awaiting voluntary die hard protester, where countless vestal virgins provide blissfulness (think Playboy mansion on steroids) synonymous with delightful grand view garden of Eden transmuting mortal flesh (clothed in lovely bones) into burnt offering mummifying and searing once robust sacred heart courtesy hungry, and angry forked flames. Escape said hell on Earth I must, which hopefully convincingly explains the above nightmarish scenario awaking me from an otherwise pleasant siesta. Livingsocial here at Highland Manor sparks the matchless following hyperbole, whereby overactive imagination fosters grim statistics of suicide in general, and setting her/himself afire in particular, yes no matter the truism, we (yours truly and the missus) can attest to a roof (recently reshingled) over our head. If only the (laugh-in) fickle finger of fate would bless with doggone sudden wealth, or bestow beneficent altruistic philanthropist to bolster my very anemic checking and savings accounts which still smarts nearly eleven months after weathering a blitzkrieg assault iterated umpteen times within previous poems, and even posted a gofundme page, whose soothing telephone voice calm, cool and collected (sotto voce) belied blood thirsty Machiavellian scheming compute hacker and fraudster, who called himself Harvey Specter; One scheming scammer, who made out like a bandit  after he fleeced one naive sexagenarian. No matter psychological services found the author of these words vilifying above named malevolent online marauder who initially (convincingly) weaseled his way thru the milieu of cyberspace zapping this Apple Macbook Pro laptop, claiming to be holier than thou by disabling access to the Internet, I fell prey to his charade, binary enfilade, and façade entranced and mesmerized, subsequently feeling wretched after carrying out the bidding by unforgettable referenced clip artist, which incident of being bilked reported to the local police, whose promptitude responding offered small consolation. Little forgiveness yielded toward a punning wordsmith, still seething, fuming, livid with rage and mad as a hatter at himself for following hook, line and sinker, an older fella ordinarily tentative and cautious when commingling with persons unknown.