POETRYDrunk DialJamie Haddox
Dishonesty is always drawn
helplessly to the truth
serum.
There used to be a dial tone
while you considered
your connection.
You had to punch in numbers.
Now you say his name,
and the flood starts.
God, I'm sorry...
God, I'm lost...
God, I'm broken...
God, I’m falling down the stairs again...
It was never what you meant to say, never
what he wanted to hear, but the truth
kept spewing,
Unstoppable, unrelenting,
irreversibly
damaging.
Jamie Haddox has been studying the art of writing for over half her life. She received an Associates Degree in Creative Writing in 2012, and received a BA in Creative Writing in 2014. Her poems have appeared in Pretty Owl Poetry, Golden Walkman, and Haute Dish.
spider up her thigh in the dimly lit room
held down, stared down
embers of the abyss snap around her
My father sexually abused me.
When I got married,
I hyphenated my name.
No one questioned it at the time.
But in the middle of my parents’ late divorce,
everyone wants to know about names.
Nietzsche warned us not to look
long into the abyss, or it will look long
into us.
It was finally
his home until
abruptly
his mind flashed
all the times he had entered a
boy
i was depressed,
and i wanted
to take a
walk;
you said you'd join me—
didn't mean i wanted
netflix and chill,
it happened before words came
to tell me how to feel about it
newly connected neurons torn apart
or perverted—
forever firing blanks into the microbiological air
As a child
The lessons taught
Can bring a pain never thought.
The lessons on trust
And heartache
Sear the soul.