Hello Sports Fans. It is time for the Farm Report.
The weather is fowl, the weather in my brain, that is. It is so shitty in my head there have to have been fowl in my brain. The chickens have come home to roost. They are scratching around looking for some oyster shell and it is so miserable inside my cranium that I may go freaking crazy.
I want to scream "HELP" at the top of my lungs but there is no one to yell to. Two things there. No one would have a clue about what I speak and no one could do anything anyway. Others would just stare at me, in total silence, and walk away. I must seem so strange to others. I cannot describe what is wrong because I do not understand it myself. I just want someone to hold me and say something nice to me. The turmoil in my head is at least as bad as the turmoil in the world. Sucks, you know.
Does any of this make sense? I think not.
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