A sentence that just seems to keep going even though it has already said what it needs to say it just doesn't seem to be able...

Starting a sentence when you don't even feel like writing can be a pain in the ass, especially when, thanks to your non-creative inklings, you start to dread finishing it out of fear of what the end result could (or would be); instead, one keeps writing to avoid the awful full-stop, or typing as it were, like a madman looking for a lost shilling in a sack full of fish-heads praying that sooner, rather than later, his quest will come to an end -- something which we all know, of course it doesn't (barring any parenthetical deus ex machina, like a hobo wearing formal attire who suddenly shows up with a whole sack full of shillings and suggests that the two men drop everything (fish-head sack included) and wander off to the nearest carnival, where surely they will be able to enjoy candied yams, and sugar cubes, and perhaps, fortune-willing, catch the eyes of a couple of dashing young ladies who will let them hold their hands, and, if all goes well, die nobly at the hands of a circus beast, like an elephant or bearded lady; this final proposition of course, and I think it bears no mentioning, our madman holding a sack full of fish heads likes not in the slightest -- THE SLIGHTEST -- and would mention so to our dear formal-hobo, were a person like that to arrive on the scene which we all know of course, he wouldn't): for that, dear reader, is the plight of the desperate writer mired in a run-on sentence; a plight he would not share with anyone; not his mother; nor his uncle; nor the nearest man who misuses semi-colons; he instead, like a child swimming unattended struggles to keep himself afloat, he is drowning in words, and sputtering as though from water-filled lungs, while mother sips her lemonade in the parlour talking with Doris about Eleanor, their recently divorced friend and her most recent scandal, and blithely pass judgment while masking their own all-too-obvious jealousy at her newly found freedom as a woman about town and all-the-while ignoring the screams and splashes from the backyard -- no, not a plight to share at all.