Asleep I Thought


this morning I woke up with a cut on my finger and thought
how did I get this little cut on my finger I thought
I must have been on such an adventure asleep I thought
last night tucked under six or seven comforters (because I get cold

at night) and I thought where and what had I been
under those comforters last night to earn me such a mark I thought
that little cut now turned a hazy pink under healing flesh so
it must've been a long long time ago I thought for such an adventure
so I must have fallen into a nest of a vulture or tumbled

aimlessly into a serpent's lair with glimmering carapace or awoken
a dragon and drew my sword and in a mutually terrified excitement
we slew our differences and split a pipe of rich red wine and
frolicked together to the sound of a single white drum until the wine
spilled all over my
six or seven comforters I thought and now

looking at this little cut on my finger I'm desperately wishing
that I was more interesting

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This Poems Story

I'm just an average college student who still sleeps with a teddy bear and eats stale ramen noodles with sriracha for two out of three meals per day. This is for my parents, Gary and Wendy Friedlander, who taught me to "rise above" and to keep writing, keep dreaming and keep fighting until there's nothing left but words on paper. This is for my love, Max, who looks at my crazy, jumbled mess of a mind and kisses it until everything makes sense again. Thank you all for never giving up on me.