Your Cells, Migrating

when you walk into a room, your skin wraps around me like a washing machine, and I cannot stand it

I can feel your cells migrating, I can feel you aging,

I can feel my limbs dangling,

my blood rushing through my ears and into my veins,

and your empty stomach,

and the dead leaf scraping at the ground outside the building because they did not separate the concrete from the flooring and now I have no break and everything that happens on the cracks on the sidewalks cracks through my throat like a lake cascading without a tilt