The Stranger

Each morning, I stare back at the stranger
who gazes at me while I shave. I feel
an uncanny sense of danger and hear
his footsteps on my grave. Stripping away
a mask of foam, to reveal skin newborn
pink beneath, I am an alien in
my own home. A monster older than my
teeth and the same age as my tongue. I stalk
into the kitchen and drink tea, as if
it was a potion to keep me young. But
no brew is stronger than eternity.
Each cup, I fail to find the holy grail.