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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The following account predicated on partial fact and a healthy dose of prevarication with an attendant overactive imagination. Trying to REM ember the waking stage of an emotionally tormenting dream One week later still dog-tired after jarring telephone ordeal (seven days ago from April 30, 2025) with fake government employees, yours truly still emotionally haggard trembling and wretched closely following on the figurative heels of FaceBook account of mine getting hacked, whereat my psyche got hijacked to Cuba. I fell prey to innocuous text messages sent to my FaceBook messenger account by person(s) unknown, which promised a boatload of money one quick get rich scheme supposedly no strings attached of course the wary and suspect immediately read thru the lines, and saw the scam for what it was. I learned the hard way courtesy supposed special federal agent Carlos A. Briano linked into hashtagged badge identification 437409, who tried to implicate me and/or in conjunction with criminals on the loose, who stole my identity for egregious purposes such as money laundering and selling illegal contrabands. Official sounding acronyms bandied about (to and fro, hither and yon) in tandem with interjected convincing sounding emphatic threats of jail time gave muscle and heft, and ample material to mine for months worth of telehealth therapy courtesy CHE Behavioral Health Services. No police people came knocking on our door one bedroom apartment unit labeled b44 coming to take me away to be imprisoned with heavily pierced and tattooed criminals hashtagged as hardcore bullying, once upon a time a wimpy kid, who grew into an older shy Norwegian Bachelor farmer frequently and nevertheless repeatedly targeted by fraudsters, which psychological torture attributed to series of unfortunate events - mainly unfairly accused as complicit and accessory of serious offenses found yours truly to be falsely accused courtesy stolen identity (mine) brutalized by nasty and short thugs while behind bars, where accidentally linkedin with high crimes and misdemeanors eventually inured me against punishment (videre licet pummeled into matted pulp) de jure factor post traumatic stress a major reason without rhyme explaining current resultant languor with just energy and panhandle holding up a placard reading "please help me Mister Postman, cuz I am poor."
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