dimanche 3 août 2008

what am i doing wrong?

there was a deer's head hanging from the wall in my hotel room, last night.
not hanging,
but standing as firmly as he would have on his own legs,
watching me change, wash, brush, and sleep.
his shoulders were strong; and he had a thick, perfectly morphed skull.
those sorrowful eyes glared at me, followed my path throughout the room.
it felt like a security light on the back of my neck, in the corners of my own eyes.
and in the dark
in the dark, antlers stretched themselves across the ceiling, and those same eyes stared profoundly into mine; the slightest gloss left shone from the parking lot's dim lighting.
and there was a point, around 2:30, where we had stared at eachother without shoulders to hold our heads.
and i saw
we weren't very different from eachother at all.