A coworker at my non-poetry related job recently became injured, and, as a result, I've been working both jobs on Wednesdays, leaving me more tired and cranky than usual during the open mics. Because I'd foolishly agreed to be in the current Champion Of Champions slam, I had to have a new two minute poem prepared by roughly eleven o'clock p.m. Though, I've been writing almost a poem a day all year, there weren't any that I was excited about reading that I hadn't already read on either the open mic or the slam. So, I sat down at the bar during the hour and a half window between jobs to write a new poem.

Tonight's ghost line prompt is "I am familiar with the treason of an ambitious mouth" came to me without reason or concept. I spent about fifteen minutes working on a poem about the times I've said things that I thought would yield positive results, that I later regretted. It didn't go where I wanted it , so I stared at the line for a while, and remembered the story about one of my exes falling asleep mid-fellatio, and began to write about that. When that wasn't leading me anywhere promising, I got lost in a maze of other ways to escape that opening line.

When I think they're edited to the point where they're deserving of public posting, they'll be up on Because You Politely Requested It.