I see my rival in bitter disguises.
He lingers like the taste of broken glass
on a lifeless morning after.

He is reflected in cold hostile stares
on grisly subways and the shining grey
of coffee cups on empty stalls.

I stand unprepared.
He grins from every crevice.

And I know this of rivals and of death,
they are intransigent as old love
and survive a brief forever.

As blank as air, cold as my desperation,
colourless as evil, he is untouchable,
unknown, a familiar stranger.

He waits in the splinters of electric night,
at yawning doors. I watch him in slithering
crowds, in a diaspora of eyes.

He knows my secrets.
He does not mean well.....