my friend told me that birds just take one continuous breath for their whole life, one continuous inhale, and they breathe all the time. they never stop. i think that's pretty cool. but then i was thinking about it and maybe that's why they can't swim, because they're always inhaling, and it would kind of suck to inhale a bunch of water. so maybe being a bird wouldn't be that cool. but maybe my friend was just making it up or she had her facts wrong and actually birds breathe like we do, in and out in and out in and out. and we can swim but we can't fly because we're too busy exhaling to flap our wings. do we have wings? i

poison people and voices that sound like home by Wonkado, literature

Literature

poison people and voices that sound like home

"no, that's my problem," she said, bitter, and knocked the flower vase and it smashed on the floor and she stepped on the broken glass but it didn't hurt her feet. she'd made up her mind to be beyond physical pain, but mental pain was much harder. people got in the way. "i fall in love with poison people and voices that sound like home, that's my problem," she shouted. she kicked around broken flower glasses, but when she'd thought she was immune to all pain physical she was wrong; she was only wearing shoes. and she needed something like that for her heart to protect her from all the people she broke.

that which woke us by Wonkado, literature

Literature

that which woke us

lift your hats off to the checkout girls with tattooed backs-- and don't forget you've nearly lost it but don't you fret we'll find it soon if you can spare a minute i'd like to speak about the time we went off to the ocean and we found the waves, and we walked on the boardwalks til voices woke us and whispering, they spoke us ideas to find but don't worry we've got time if you can spare a minute i hear there's places and ideas in it, in the places with the boardwalks so let's go back and lift our hats off to the checkout girls with tattooed backs--

sticks stones and fires by Wonkado, literature

Literature

sticks stones and fires

this is how it will be: we will go out there holding hands and they will throw sticks and stones to break our bones and then we will smile and keep our hands because we will save each other. don't frown on the inside. i'm already crying, so you need to smile. then they will light a fire beneath us and we will laugh; what more could fire do to us? hold my hand while we burn, i might be scared underneath. you're better at this than i am. i plan. you smile. you're for the cameras. i'm for the rebels. i'm for us. and we will go out holding hands, we will burn holding hands, we will die holding hands. we will be the symbol but y

bedtime by Wonkado, literature

Literature

bedtime

light and sound under our canopies dreaming or awake? smiling across oceans on our little boats i told you how it was it's just so... fantastic look up now we're floating, drifting away but still close to each other; far from the lights and far from the sounds do we really have to wake? did i ever say we were dreaming? bedtime poems send us here to our islands and to the sea and to castles and forests and places to be with each other can we stay here? it's so quiet and calm and waves make our little boats bobble and i look across and laugh, quiet okay.

burning by Wonkado, literature

Literature

burning

it's not as easy to fight as to run but we left them behind, every one waited until sunrise and light everything was just too bright whispering to me as we stared at the stars that's one's venus, but maybe it's mars whispering back not looking at you planets can't be more different than those two i fall asleep and remember them all i saw children die and fall you don't say anything about it if i didn't dream, i would still doubt it it's easier to say nothing to you, to be pretending we aren't the very last two we ran away and we hid in the forest but all i can hear is their fiery chorus don't you feel guilty? no.

things by Wonkado, literature

Literature

things

you say you like how i'm cute, but i swear you take the most unattractive pictures of me i have ever seen. then you tell me i'm gorgeous and you kiss me in the back of the car twelve times so you can get the picture right. you're always criticizing yourself. the truth is i have no idea who you really are. you could be an astronaut or an ax murderer and i would just smile and go along with it and smile pretty for the camera. kiss you twenty times if it would make you happy. you don't smile as much as you used to, but when you do i swear it makes me feel like i could be a star among the clouds. i think you're a jigsaw puzzle. i mean

persephone. by Wonkado, literature

Literature

persephone.

Lexy was not special, despite the uncommon consonant in her name. Everything about her was positively a specialness killer, from her average hair length to her normal clothes. There was nothing extraordinary about her. She went to average movies and listened to popular music and went on to lead a very uninteresting life. So, our story will be about Persephone. Upon first sight of Persephone, one might not assume much. She had long hair. Her clothes featured obscure bands, which wasn't quite fashionable, but might have been influenced from New York or some such nonsense. She wasn't quite popular and generally stayed on the fringes of grou

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