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i'm currently laying in my bed with tears in my eyes for the first time in as long as i can remember.  this feeling is far too familiar, and i didn't miss it at all.  it feels like one of those old friends you didn't mind not seeing anymore, you just sort of accepted their absence.  although this isn't a friend; it never has been nor will it ever be.  it's a foe, and alter ego, and as wretched as it is to say, it's truly my former self.  i've heard countless times the phrase "the hardest thing to endure is watch the one you love, love someone else", but there is a bit of deceit behind it.  in my personal opinion, the hardest thing to endure isn't having the one you love, love someone else, but just simply knowing they don't love you back.  any person could possess their heart, while at the same time, they posses yours.  it's a dreadful feeling, really.  it's consuming, and with the consumption comes emptiness.  the emptiness is what sits in the pit of your stomach.  it's a contradiction, i guess you could say.  lately i've become nothing but a contradiction.  in the words of an anonymous novelist, a "fatal contradiction", which frightens be down below the contradictory emptiness in the pit of my stomach, goes through my blue veins, creeps into my fingertips, which act as puppets by making their way up to their controller, beginning to claw at their puppeteer to make the thoughts stop.
 Dec 2013 Megan Hoagland
Zak Krug
He said,
She said,
madness.
The cup is filled to the brim.
It is spreading,
not like a plague.
Please accept this illness as a sign of our good will.
Things will get darker before they
explode.
There is a reason for everything.
The plan has been laid out for
the world to mend.
He said that she said
pick the apple.
The voices become a roar,
echoing through the frontal lobe.
Where does the madness begin?
It begins with us.
It ends with us.
We are the complication.
We are the unbalanced equation.
He she,
she said,
madness.
 Dec 2013 Megan Hoagland
Elena
She smiles at the sunrise,
She laughs with the sunshine,
She dances with the clouds,
She gives her heart to the blue skies,
She shows all the rays of light how to be joyous,
She loves the sunset.

But when dusk finally comes,

She sings to the stars, but the stars don’t sing back.
She calls for the moon, yet there is no answer.
She tries to show her heart to the Milky Way,
But all it wants is perfection.

She cries out to the galaxies,
To accept all she has to offer,
But all they want is perfection.

She cries out to the ocean,
Desperate for comfort,
But the ocean only wants the sea.

She tries to give them things she doesn’t have,
But it takes all of her.

She prays for their happiness,
But they don’t understand her prayers.

But when she is at the end,
The end of her hope,

She finds a rock.

This rock is like none other,
When she picks it up,
She sees herself,

She expects to see ugliness,
Worthlessness,
Hopelessness,
A creature.

But what she sees isn’t what she expects,

She doesn’t see all the things she tries to be,
She doesn’t see the smile she wears when she is in pain,
Doesn’t see the things she tries to give.

With this rock
She doesn’t have to be perfect,
Because this rock is perfect for her.

And with this rock,
All she sees,

All she sees
Is herself.
Born…
   with flesh that contradicts nervous system
        that contradicts skeletal system
                                                          ­             I am body
torn by its very nature
                                                          ­             I am lost
with troubled soul
   swirling in the cesspool that is life
        only hope of firm ground
                                                          ­             I am teen
with limited past                                                             ­                                          yet promising future
the result of an overbearing mother
   and a negligent father
                                                          ­             I am young black man
who has acted as a dumping ground
for words of wisdom
   and honorable ethics
                                                          ­             I am tamed chameleon
                                                       ­                I am weary traveler
yet to begin his journey
   nothing more than a loner searching for a rock
                                                            ­           I am questioning dreamer
a blind eye
   trapped on the inside looking out
                                                             ­          I am double-edged book
bound at the hems
   by veins interwoven into a heart of passionless calm
                                                            ­           I am heart
that beats once a year
   and on occasion of a pulse through my ear
                                                             ­          I am sound wave
waiting for my group
   a team of gears
        interlocking and shifting
             interlocking and shifting
                                                        ­                                                                 ­                      in constant pattern
too scared to slip outside the mold
                                                            ­           I am puppeteer’s puppet
my strings stay taut even in moments of rebellion
                                                       ­                I am slave to those who lead
because I
   am
innate follower
                                                        ­               I am pawn to those who will me
and doormat to those who seek refuge
                                                          ­             I am the lethargic day
that drags into eternity
   the deplorable boredom that hinders life
                                                            ­           I am the sad sap
that rolls down a crying tree
                                                            ­           I am the lack
that fills the vacuum
   the fluff
        that merely attracts the eye while providing nothing
                                                         ­              I am intricate façade
for bland building
                                                        ­               I am sky-filled bottle
with unscrewed cap
   an underman
        with self-contained potential
                                                       ­                I am statistic
a variable trying to escape definition
                                                      ­                 I am athlete
natural as the earth
at heart
   a quitter trained to persevere

                                                      ­                 I am carbon footprint
being slowly blown away by the sands of time

All these things I am
   yet all at once I am not
I am not what you see
   nor what you know
        for I cannot be known
I am not philosopher
   but then again
        if we count what I am not
                                                             ­                                                                 ­         then I do not even exist

                                                          ­             I am not written word
                                                            ­     because paper is constricting
This is so old it predates my poetry book. It is also not the original; if it can be believed this version is much more optimistic. In addition, I reordered/reorganized the phrases. I would like to continuously alter this piece so it reflects the changes within me.
 Oct 2013 Megan Hoagland
Alice
Pour poison into my veins
and let it flow through them.
Keep me chained,
- set me free.
Lie the truth to me.
Make me happy.

Pull my strings
and let me dance
to the music of your lips.
**** my mind up.
Play with me.

My collarbones
- they vibrate.
My muscles
- they burn.
Touch my cheekbones
gently, softly.

Create wounds and scratches
all over my skinny body.
Then inject morphine
into my soul.
Then let me raise
like smoke from ashes.

Cure my veins
from venomous blood.
**** me slowly,
drugged and drunk.
Build a monster
out of love.

Remember my eyes
- insanely mad.
Remember my skin
- white and pale.
Show me the light
and let me see.
Or close my eyes
and let me be.
 Sep 2013 Megan Hoagland
ali
She Is
 Sep 2013 Megan Hoagland
ali
She is warm blankets on a cold Sunday morning.
She is the reminder of better days to come on a Monday.
She is the late-night Tuesday jam sessions.
She is the unexpected "hello" on a boring Wednesday.
She is the cold coffee you grab on your way out the door Thursday.
She is the anticipation of the weekend on Friday afternoon.
She is the confidence lacing up your shoes for a Saturday night.
She is everything you want, and nothing you can have.
A silence with you
Is not
a silence

But a moment rich
with peace
"The way you work
is so messy"
as paints lay all
around,
bits of paper
tacked, taped
in shapes
five shades
of blue
stain my arms
"And your pieces are so...
unclean, undefined"
I laughed a little
and replied
"Just like
life."
Daniel Magner 2013
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