song of persistent failure to publish

some people will say I am wasting my time
some say i am wasting my talent
all day drinking $2 margas with lime
and whacking end rhymes with a mallet
but time is an infinite unbounded prairie
where tarpaper shacks have been set up
and in these dense rooms in the dense heat of day
we are locked in a loop that won't let up
if I were a chicken and you were an egg
undoubtedly I would feel wary
if I were to bare you like so much plump leg
like giving my organs away