``can you help me | i'm b e n t [kit]

[Trench]

▪ He walks, and has walked, and will walk; he’s leaving, has left, but will he just keep leaving? Can he keep leaving? So often, so often, but he’s never left alone before. Alone… alone, alone, alone. Alone. The word, the word! Alone, alone, alone. Can he be alone? She left; no, no, no no no. She didn’t leave, he left; he left. Why, why, why did he leave? She said…she said and said and yelled! He listened; that’s why, he listened, could he do anything else? She said so, she said so, and so he left, he left, and now he’s alone, alone alone alone. Alone, yes, he understands, he knows, he knows, and yet, and yet… still so confused, so lost, lost. What can he do, what can he do, what should he do?

pick me up and dust me off

▪ He stops, shakes his head, waits, rocks side to side, what to do, what to do. His eyes close, and he thinks, and thinks, and continues to think. Yet each decision is blocked, each option tossed aside, shoved aside, blocked out by one thought, yet not even a complete thought, but a word, a word, a single word which repeats again and again. Alone. Alone, alone, alone alone alone. What can he do, what does he do? Yet he is alone. He’s never been alone before; she’s left, but she’s never gone far, never gone far, and always, always, has she told him to wait, told him to wait, and wait he has, but what now? What now? He left, he left like she said, but where does he go to? He can’t leave anymore, can’t keep walking forever. He’s tired, so tired, so very, very tired and alone. It has to stop; he can’t take it; more constant than bruises and cuts and scrapes and tears, he can’t take it, he can’t, he can’t he can’t. ”’M goin’ta’ stop,” he mutters, quiet, quiet, always so very quiet, never meant to be heard, and yet he must be, over the roar of the alone. ”’M goin’ta stop it. ‘M not goin’ta keep goin’. ‘M goin’ta find sis.” But he stops, shakes his head, rocks again. He can’t, he can’t, she told him to leave. ”’En som’on else. ‘Ere’s got ta’ be som’on else.” He nods, forceful, fierce. But where, but where? So he stands; he cannot decide, does not know how, and so he waits, rocking slowly, and waits, waits for someone, for her, for anyone.

_{keloid
411
lyrics © matchbox twenty
man, he’s all over the place XD Poor boy doesn’t even know how to think right, haha}

[ketsueki]

It was cold, the weather this season was brutal. She trotted along, her paws sinking into the icy snow. She needed to find someone, one not in her pack. She was headed towards the Lashia territory, any one of those cats would love to get there jaws on the alphess. Though she would have to be careful in her choice…she needed someone dumb, one that would take orders with out question….one that she could easily blame for any deaths or misfortunes…a scapegoat if you will. Her moonstone like eyes darted back and forth, she had to make sure she was not fallowed. She stopped and licked her paw pretending to be doing nothing but taking a stroll. Her black ears twisted around listening for any movement…good she was not fallowed. She shook off her dark blue grey fur and grinned, showing her half broken fang. So far so good, she continued on her walk, always cautions about any odd noise.

Silence…in other seasons she would hear the swift river crashing over rocks, but by now the river had to have frozen over. Which would explain the silence, her nose twitched…something was off. She smelt cat, her ears perked and her tail rose to be even with her body. She slunk closer to the ground, her paws not making a noise on the snow cushioned grown. Like a shadow she moved around trees, until her cold eyes spotted a rather large cat. A cat that looked unsure of himself…and he chatted to himself. It was a possibility he was the one she was looking for…though then again looks could be deserving so best be cautious. She slowly walked up to him, her breath coming out in clouds. She curled her lips back and growled.

”Filthy Feline what are you doing here?”

Her eyes glinted dangerously and her fur bristled, but she made no move to attack. She would see what this cats intentions where…then mold them to suite her. Her cold white eyes never left the large cat, she would attack if he made any sudden movements.

[Trench]

▪ He knows, he knows he should be moving, leaving, leaving like she said, going somewhere, anywhere, just away, away from her, like she said, like she said. She said, she orders, she screamed and yelled and battered him away, and he should just keep going, keep going and going until she told him to stop—but how, but how? Even he was not that stupid, even he knew she’d never be able to reach him if he just kept going. And he couldn’t…he couldn’t stand that thought, of never seeing her, of her never finding him, never taking him back in. What else was there for him? Yet she said to leave; but he had left, hadn’t he? Must he keep leaving. Back and forth, back and forth, his body rocks, weight shifting side to side, side to side, as unsteady as his mind, as unable to pick a side as he himself was; back and forth, back and forth. But not forward, no, not forward; he should leave, but he can’t, he can’t. ’M not goin’ta keep going.” He mutters, firmly, decisively, though his mind continues to argue. Back and forth, back and forth, a fish out of water, his mind flips side to side, unsettled, never settling, never falling still. But soon it would; he couldn’t go on forever like this; like the fish upon land he would eventually die, and though his rocking does not cease, never ceases, simply for need to move, to do, anything, anything, his thoughts slowly, reluctantly quiet themselves.

pick me up and dust me off

▪ And then he sees her, smells her, and she is upon him, around him, snarling, hissing—no, no, she is not her, not his sister, she is wolf, she does not hiss—growling! He has not expected this, so sure he’d be waiting forever, the only thing he had been sure of, and yet now, now she is upon him. He looks blankly at her, his mind racing to catch up with her, with words spoken harshly, with taught muscles and threatening posture. What does he do, what can he do, what should he do? He rocks, he rocks, he does not know. Filthy… filthy… He knows it’s true; can he fix it? He knows not how. What does she want? She gives no order. A question, a question; when does his voice count. Shut up, you oaf! No one cares what you think; you don’t think anyways! Has he spoken? She is waiting. But she…but so long, so long he has been told to silence himself, his thoughts, his mutterings, never meant to be heard, never meant to be heard. ”’M findin’ som’on,” he murmurs, quiet, quiet; can she hear at all? He doesn’t want her to, yet she has asked it, is that not order enough? ”’M not sure who, but ‘m goin’ta find som’on.”

_{keloid
473
lyrics © matchbox twenty
Eh, getting better; poor Keloid just doesn’t know what to do, haha}