The Sarah Project: Day Whatever

You have Billy to thank that I unprivatized this. I totally forgot after some editing tweaks. I apologize.

So I want to enter this in a magazine publishing contest. Tell me if you think its worth my time. Its a poem modeled in the style of Allen Ginsberg's Howl. You should check that poem out first. It's several tens of pages long, but it has a rich history. You should consider it the start of the Beatniks. And if you don't know what I'm talking about you need to Wiki it. Like now. Ummkay....

Lost

For Allen Ginsberg and Myself

I saw the best minds of my generation squandered
   in assignments, wasted exhausted burnt-out,
   taxing themselves thru the dark tunnels of the mind
   at dawn looking for a well-lit hope
caffeinated hungry work-a-holic angels yearning
   for a connection to each other in the
   lonely night of unrealized advancement
who learned to be the most learnt and competitive
who were driven so hard they drove themselves
   into the ground into the bong of lost hope
who wasted themselves just to get wasted amongst
   those who knew what it was like
   to travel through the center of the universe
   only to find themselves with coffee
   and a doughnut and tears
who sat up late at night RuneScape or Surfthechannel
   and longed for a purpose to bring them
   through to the realm of having dreams
   at an impasse with an entanglement to fate
who stood atop the bridge of time
   and cast their coins into the pool
   of swift moving eternity - hoping
   it was a Treve fountain, to return
who were thinkin wishin hopin praying
   that it would truly be nice but were
   left at the beach by those false-teaching
   boys with long hair and terse love
who traveled three hundred miles
   at three in the morning searching
   along the gravel highway of left-behind
   ideas and loves for a tasty slice of
   heavenly lemon pie
who sat on Facebook hoping to stop peering into
   the same face while they read the next
   dry textbook of overbearing data
   spread across space and time
who left themselves in the womb dying to get out
   but were too scared to burst forth
   and live with no boundaries
   surrounded with Berlin Walls of fear they
   self-erect to keep them from the world
who tried true but can't carry on and instead bear
   the cross for others with shattered hearts
   and tattered beliefs left alone with
   their books, gods, and truths
who relive bad memories war hate lust pain weddings
   in the hallucinations that come to them
   as the darkness lifts its curse
   off the horizon
I saw the best minds of my generation
   lost.

Sincerely,
Sarah