Translation of Constipation

The saying goes “hot dog down a hallway”.

But what about a train going out of a driveway?

I squeeze and I squeeze with nothing to give.

It feels that up my butt not even a mite could live.

If I push any harder, it’ll surely mean embolism.

If I hold in too long, it’s a colonic cataclysm.

Which road do I take? For I cannot decide.

And risk a cushion beneath my bum the next time, this porcelain, I do ride.