The enemy on the inside

My cells have turned bandit on me.
They riot against the fluid secrecy of the veins
And shorten the liveliness in their coil.
Let me hold up my lantern!
Is that you who are dying inside me?
Or have you come to lend them a hand
To rout the weaponry of the faithful body?
I have had you beneath me for a split eternity
And felt the unclothed scars mapping your skin.
There is a story of great feats trapped in them.
My retina land-stripped your vulnerability
As I lent my salt-veined tongue to their edges.
I am fond of disappearing into the fifth flavor,
Salty, sweet, sour and bitter, all culminate into
The taste of you, nesting at the bed of them veins-
A thief’s pride lies in the numbed fingertips.

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