Re: Bear Keeni [[D6]]

I saw a picture of you,
Hanging in an empty hallway.
I heard a voice that I knew,
And I couldn't walk away.
It took me back to the end,
Where everything I tasted all,
I tasted all the tears.
Again.



My name is Bear Ishmael Keeni,
but please, call me Bear.

I am neunzehn years old,
which translates into 19.

Last time I checked, I was a male.
I don't think it's changed since.

I live in District 6.

Anything else you'd like to know?


Outside the rains pouring down,
There's not a drop that hits me.
Scream at the sky but no sound,
Is leaving my lips.
It's like I cant even feel,
After the way you touched me.
I'm not asleep,
I'm not awake,
After the way you loved me.


You really want to know what I look like?

You know what? I really don't care how views me when I say that I think I'm pretty decent looking; sure, I may not be Mr. Sexy, but I ain't white trash. I do feel quite superior over people simply because I'm 6'6, but who wouldn't? I can stare down a lot of people. I think it does quite a lot to intimidate people, but that's just me. My eyes, though most of the time. . . mysterious, if you will, are such a dark brown that sometimes the pupil almost blends in with the iris. "Piercing blue" and "vibrant green" are overrated. Seriously. And to go along with my dark eyes, I have black obsidian hair. The length of it -- cliche or not -- is to where it falls just over my eyes slightly. I can still see perfectly fine, you fool. Even though it's straight, the ends of it fray out and give me an unkempt look; maybe even a rugged look, if you see it that way. And then we move on to my teeth -- my crooked, fairly unattractive teeth. You'd think that by living in D6 we would have good dentists around, but alas!, none of the kind within a good walking distance. My teeth are crooked, some pointing in strange directions and some where the spacing is just plain awkward. However, my canine teeth are perfectly fine. . . and they're the ones I really only care about.

Why is it that everyone wants to know about my build-slash-body type? Fine, bitch. I already told you that I'm 6'6, a giant compared to most. Most people my height, I figure, are put into two categories: bulky or not bulky. Ha. I'm just about in the middle of those two; I'm not Hulk-like, but I'm not like a toothpick, either. I don't like to boast or anything, but I think I have pretty damn good muscle tone. You can tell where the muscle is underneath my skin by the lines, but don't believe people when they tell you it's not very define. They're dumb ass liars and they're jealous. But despite my toned body, my fingernails and toenails aren't exactly the prettiest thing on the block. Even though I do clip them on occasion, I don't always scrape out the dirt and what-not that gets built up underneath them. Gross, I know, but I'm just too lazy to actually take the time to clean them sometimes. The skin on my palms are calloused, and despite their roughness, I've been told that they're pretty smooth against skin. . .


I can't turn this around,
I keep running into walls that I can't break down.
I said,
I just wander around,
With my eyes wide shut because of you.
I'm a sleep walker,
Walker.
Walker.
I'm a sleep walker,
Walker.
Walker.


So now you want to know how I act? Damn you.

I'll just tell you right now, I'm not one to warm up to people easily. I don't even really like people -- but you'll hear about that later. Upon first approach, I can easily be taken for a cold, bitter ol' bastard who doesn't give a damn about anything. Partially, this is true; I often don't care what happens to anyone, so call me selfish if you want -- I don't care about your opinion. I'll flat-out tell you what I think, straight to your face. If I don't like you, I'll tell you; if I think you're wrong, I'll tell you, even if I soon figure our that I'm wrong -- I'm stubborn as an ass. And to continue along those lines, I don't like being bossed around. At all. I'm not your bitch, so don't even go there. And if I try bossing you around, I'll expect you to do it; but if you don't expect some icy stares or a few grumbling, cursing remarks. I won't exactly make you do what I say, seeing as I don't usually feel like it; and even if I did, I still wouldn't. By then, you'd probably just be a waste of my time.

Since I do live in District 6, I work in a lab. Two, actually -- and I love both in their own special way. First, the clean subject: I love working with explosive things. I don't know what exactly got me hooked onto the subject, but I loved it ever since I first started. Especially when we get to make controlled explosions -- damn, those're the best. Despite how childish and elementary it is, my favorite thing to do is separate hydrogen and oxygen molecules into tubes and put a lit match under the hydrogen one. No matter how shitty of a day I have, setting off hydrogen is my only real way of really blowing off steam. And now for my second favorite love of all time: human flesh. Believe it or not, I'm a cannibal. And I love it, which is why I also help out at the morgue a lot; and since it's a job that no one really likes, I can get plenty of good pickings by browsing the body boxes. Usually I'll just cut off some strips of flesh in spots that you wouldn't normally see at funerals and either stash them in a bag or simply eat it right then and there. This is my little secret, though, so don't go telling everybody. Besides, you don't want to find yourself being eaten alive in your sleep, do you now?

The only other thing I really have to say about myself is that I'm bisexual. I fancy both boys and girls alike. Why? Because I do. 'nuff said; you don't need to know every damn detail. But I must say, I tend to find boys a bit more. . . well, I'm not sure how to put it. I guess because it's more of a social taboo to like your own gender makes it more "adventurous", or even "forbidden", but it just makes it all the more fun. The ladies have their moments, yeah; they're a hell of a lot of fun. It's just so cliche, you know? I like to have a taste of both sides. However, I've been known to not stay in relationships that long. . . never really was a thing of mine.


Let me out of this dream,
Everywhere that I go I see another memory.
And all the places we used to know,
They're always there to haunt me.
I walk around and I feel,
So lost and lonely.
You're everything that I want,
But you don't want me.


What the hell. . .? Why do you keep asking me this stuff? It's not like I'm just going to tell you my history at will--. . . .

Fine. Bitch.

Well, I was born in District 6 -- go figure. My mother was a prostitute and my father was a guy that really had nothing to do on the weekends. Well, they got together one night; a certain thing broke and a certain thing got loose and hit a certain thing and, well, here I am. They never really could decide what to do with me, handing me back and forth between the two of them like I was some dog. I was never used to staying in one place since my homes were being constantly shifted, but I adjusted. It's not like I had much time to spend with them anyway; my dad and his laboratory, and my mom and her--. . . yeah. She was quite busy. Do I even need to bother mentioning the things I heard at night?

So as I grew up, I grew distant from my parents; I started staying after school a lot more often just so I could spend time with friends and not have to waste my life away being alone, couped up in a house. And that was when I began to start seeing Cassandra, a beautiful brunette. At least, she was back then -- but we're not to that part yet. So anyway, since my whichever guardian I was staying with at the time wasn't home, I would invite her over a lot. We had a hell of a lot of fun together, though most of it wasn't with good intentions. Ha! If my parents could've seen what we did. . . well, I'm not sure what they'd do. They did the same thing, so it doesn't matter. The only thing was, though, it dawned on me that something about just bugged the shit out of me. I don't know exactly what it was, but I hated it. So one night while we had the house to ourselves, after our romping around, I waited until she was asleep before I took up a serrated knife. Bitch never saw it coming, hell no -- I stabbed the knife right between her shoulder blades, twisting it around so that it tore veins, flesh, and whatever else was in its way. All she managed was the start of a blood-curdling scream, but it quickly faded as her heart stopped.

So what did I do with the body? I ate it, of course. My first taste of human flesh.

It was the curiosity that caught my attention, really. I had always heard that human flesh had a peculiar taste, and so, as I sat in the blood soaked bed, I cut a slice of flesh from her arm, and ate it raw. The quality of the taste wasn't all that good, and the health risks were just too much to gamble with, so I settled to making a fire in the fireplace and cooking her. That was much better. Of course, I had to get rid of the inedible parts, so I literally buried them in the backyard. The taste was something that sent my taste buds into such a frenzy that I figure I had become addicted to human flesh right then and there. I loved it -- and I really wanted some more.

Enter Will, a big hulk of a guy. I was surprised by how easily I had managed to lure him into my new house of horrors; the big guy had a fairly small brain. Dumb ass. However, I shouldn't really be dissing on Will. . . he was the one that really sparked my interest in other males. But still, he was as intelligent as a box of rocks. Damn, it was a good thing I didn't actually like this guy; the only reason I had originally hit on him was just so I could kill him, which I did -- after romping around, of course; a serrated knife through the heart. Big Boy lasted me a good few days.

By now, I was out of school. No more luring innocent children for me. My impatient desire for human flesh was constantly bitching at me until I came up with the brilliant idea to work at the morgue -- only part time, though. I didn't want to seem too sketchy spending all my time there, but I could still get my fair share of human already slaughtered for me -- I just had to be sneaky about it, though. And not only that, but I began working in an explosives lab, which certainly makes my day every day.

Are you happy now? You better be f***ing happy.


I can't turn this around,
I keep running into walls that I cant break down.
I said,
I just wander around,
With my eyes wide shut because of you.
I'm a sleep walker,
Walker.
Walker.
I'm a sleep walker,
Walker.
Walker.


I'm told I need a codeword?

Muttations

My brain is affected by kuru. It explains my small, spontaneous tremors and unsteady gait and my bitchiness. I know it very well may just kill me sometime soon, but hell, I don't care. Just as long as I keep getting to do what I love.

My trusty knife.


Let me out of this dream.












Lyrics © Sleepwalker by Adam Lambert.