National Poetry Month Is Hell

The Ashes of April
 Hearts ignited by the National month of poetry
Frustrated poets waving tallow and torches
Setting their unwritten pages aflame
Convinced of crapdom 
Long before
They’ve ever put 
Pen to paper
Failing to try
Trying to fail
Killing whatever faint tickled trickle of verse
Creeps from their unconscious 
Seeping towards daylight
Before rational right thinking rectors released from command central 
Squash it like a cockroach
That dares to come toward the kitchen
April comes again next year
So does tax time
Guess who wins