Diagnosed with NON contagious, yet incurable case of logorrhea

Diagnosed with NON contagious, yet incurable case of logorrhea..., yielded following resultant fiction, which arbitrarily selected thread first popped into my head considered one among many possible near infinite concocted scenarios arose up, thus continue at your own risk only entertainment ye need dread. When just a ruthless babe at me mother's breast already talking fluently and creating one after another prolific literary pièce de résistance superbly peppered with eloquent, magnificent, and significant turns of phrases, not surprisingly needless to say (or type) excessive and uncontrollable talking, often seen in individuals experiencing psychomotor agitation and visual hallucinations severely disrupted with being nursed more than a few months courtesy when my twenty four year old mom, whose milk (holy cow - she uddered) and air supply exhausted inexplicably and simultaneously dried up anyway and her breasts became shriveled like that of a crone, (the above half dozen statements predicated on fact), thus wet nurses brought in from all four corners of the globe with near identical repeated outcomes prevailed videre licet, whereby every buxom gal (succumbed to mysterious malady) no matter previously rigorously, intensely screened and declared fit as a fiddle and strong as a brick Scheißhaus met an identical demise as dear old mutter unexpectedly collapsed in a heap punctuated by disequilibrium linkedin to an error message found in open source coding of their operating system compromising respective body electric, which signal effects one need be mindful of somehow attributed to unfettered loquacity of mine include exhaustion on unsuspecting listeners or readers frequently inducing immediate and non stop yawning, and worse case scenario witnesses - said innocent recipient(s) subjected to vocalizations and/or writings of Matthew Scott Harris even for the briefest moment of time and naturally the impact directly proportional to proximity to me, thus should a series of unfortunate find thee in my company - watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I'm telling you why: Perkiomen Valley poet is comin' to town cuz such close contact people known to perish from this earth in no uncertain terms how, when, where or why, though president Donald Trump intends to make unclassified once top secret information. While both parents (actually they got classed as child prodigies and satisfactorily) earned requisite credits to graduate, with honors of course across dual majors, plus acquired doctorate degrees to boot from Cooper Union College for the Advancement of Science and Art located at 30 Cooper Square in New York, NY 10003 in the East Village of Manhattan, close to Washington Square Park and Greenwich Village Despite years of deep Freudian analysis, the pathologically excessive (and often incoherent) talking or writing only worsened until the present moment February thirteenth two thousand and twenty four of this free verse poetic assay (as fingers blithely did sashay across the qwerty keyboard) emphatic issuance of uber deadly oral ejaculations and/or transmitting electronic gobbledygook put the missus in comatose state, where I can hear her snoring.