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Horrible Hobgoblins Haunt Harris Household
Our own hagrid (in the corporeal essence of marital relatives) heaves livid rage like real life harry potter dementors dead set on wreaking havoc mainly from the zison matriarch in a mental and physical decrepit stage attributable in part to her four score plus years on a depression riddled life but mainly on account that her least favorite son in law lacks any income or wage. Venomous rage spews forth like a smoldering volcano about to explode threats to vacate the premises likened to toxic emotions that bear down like the sword of Damocles or how atlas bore earth as a heavy load which chronic onslaught of fiery livid (red hot poker) rage sets the entire collective family psyche in an awful tortured soulful mode. Animosity brewed and festered for well nigh going into the eighth year scant mutually agreeable resolutions prolong this debacle at the corners of our ability to cope do rent asunder and tear and last shred of sanity that remains whereby nightmarish demons leer like haywire bots with maniacal grins their trademark flair. Wrath batters and assaults without merciless cessation lathered with blame that we supposedly bleed dry this elderly octogenarian dame criticism and insults indiscriminately hurled burns like hellish flame no matter both myself and spouse experience inherent weaknesses any explanations describing efforts to reaching goals accepted as lame. Angst permeates while hopelessness drips from every cell dealing with malice (from blood kin no less) with no salvation this place we dwell synonymous with living among the dead in I did believe in hell whereby these retaliatory barbs tossed like hand grenades pell mell because the old lady this ramshackle house she wishes to sell. If anybody who read this help us please An affordable rent such a deal this guy would cease as a permanent place to live our plight t’would appease.
Copyright © 2024 Matthew Harris. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things