about the author

A professional technical writer during the working hours and an aspiring short form writer any other time, Mikkel Snyder is a bi-racial author currently residing in St. Louis, Missouri. An ardent fan of experimental language, unconventional formatting, and diverse voices, Mikkel has been previously published in The Legendary and FreezeRay Poetry.

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Address to a Ghost

Mikkel Snyder

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You kid.
You broke.
You broke kid.
You broken kid.
You broken, kid.
You broke in kid.
You broken in kid.
You broken-in, kid.
You’ve been broken in kid.
You broke in, kid, into a house
that was never yours, kid.
You told a story that was never yours kid.
You stole a story that was never yours

Kid, you’ve been
kidding yourself kid.
Killing yourself kid.
Kill yourself kid.
I mean, kill yourself kid.
I mean, kid yourself kid
into thinking you’re not some type of broke.
You’re not some type of broken kid
even if you’ve been broken kid.
Even if you’ve been broken in kid.
Did they break you in kid?
Did you break yourself in kid?
Did you break yourself kid?

You broke.
You broke brawler.
You brawled.
You brawled till you broke.
You picked a fight you couldn’t win
and you couldn’t even pick a fight with me.
You didn’t even pick a fight with me.
You are the worst type of person.
You are everything I have ever wanted to break
and I never wanted to break anything more than
your glass jaw.
Glass shards in my knuckles, bleeding.
Glass claws scratch your name onto a list of people I once
considered family.

That’s just you, kid.
You waste of space.
You waste.
You wasted.
You wasted-space.
You were wasted
off a cheap shot of whiskey,
I imagine you saying you just being frisky
when you came.
You got-off
When you came-and-went,
you got off easy kid.

And you
thought you could mess-around with my kids,
thought you could mess with my kids
and not come to regret it?
You broken bottle of a person.
You broke bottles as a person.
You broke persons with bottles.
You broken person.
What if I break you with one?
You wasted a second shot at a second chance of life, kid.
Shot yourself in the foot
how many times kid?
How many times,

Go on and try to kid yourself kid.
Kill yourself kid.
An intravenous drip of slow poison ain’t quick enough for me kid.

You didn’t even give me a chance to my save my kids,
to save you kid.
Could you have even been saved?

Here’s a glass shard from your glass jaw
to cut you
to cut you out
to cut you out of my life.

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