On being emotionally bankrupt

On being emotionally bankrupt Sentient beings distraught psyche rent asunder courtesy false accusations heated words exchanged like gunfire pox upon the house of Deborah Hunter, a vicious vindictive girlish looking septuagenarian woman buzzfeeding unfounded conspiracy that the missus steals packages ever since we moved here at Highland Manor Apartments force core and seven years ago July first two thousand and seventeen thee wife accused unfounded rumor circulated, she brought in snakes courtesy whom I hashtag snaggletooth blind as a bat mistook large make believe as voracious very hungry, albeit friendly stuffed caterpillars, nevertheless possessing an insatiable appetite for rumor mongers especially for bony thin older bonnie lass or similar facsimile thereof such as a small number of tenants housed here at above mentioned low income low slung building formerly an elementary school repurposed many decades ago into accommodations mostly catering to senior citizens, and/or those receiving social security disability the latter classification pertains to yours truly, a psychologically tuckered out egalitarian, libertarian, nonsectarian, sexagenarian, solitudinarian Unitarian frazzled, grizzled, and puzzled wordsmith who knows not why the wife singled out and bullied, hastled, intimidated, and threatened creating hostile living environment impacting me indirectly caught in the crosshairs wishing upon a star to acquire monetary resources to hightail out of insufferable toxic shock system of the down slipping into the behavioral sink suffocating - impossible mission to catch my breath brainstorming for solution while pitched upon horns of a dilemma, whereat I shout out thru the corridors of time calling Bull Moose and Rocky my childhood fictitious cartoon heroes to deliver salvation out the maws of an untenable situation threatening life and limb hankering for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness birthing nirvana linkedin to soul asylum.