A gobstopper dilemma

I write a lot of crap. I will guess that I have broken every grammatical rule ever made. I need to dumb down my writing. I often don't understand a word I write. Maybe most of it is pure nonsense. The problem is that I can't do much else. If I don't write, I don't communicate. This is fact. I take it as a compliment that anybody reads my blog. Keep in mind that what I write is no where near as important as the fact that I write at all.
Writing with my eyes is slow and tedious. My ideas form as often as waves on the beach, consumed by the sand that is my ability to share. The stories evaporate and the remnants carry back to the water of origin that is my mind. Sucks like a riptide. My head is brimming with myriad adventure forever trapped by an impermeable cast of bone. I am awash and drowning in a sea of undiscovered bullshit. Unleashed upon the world it could fertilize the deserts of the earth.
    See? Crappola. Crappochino. Craptastic. Shinola.
      If it weren't for my limitations, I would spill Good'n'Plenty, careful not to be careful. ALS has created a monster greater than itself. Foolish in its most basic form.
      My agenda, in the works: short story- assassin's remorse. Another - attack of nature. Coming soon to a grand opening.
So...... If you like crap....... The sluice gates have rotted away! Stay tuned.