“There’s a thick, black, pearlescent liquid underneath the earth for whom people are dying and cars are starting and the sky is falling open. I am seeping and weeping and it is not helping anyone.” — Abi Palmer, Slugs: A Manifesto

I’m moist; wet even. Slick with mucus, spit and tears. All that I have felt has changed me, transformed my body to reveal my permeable nature. My body no longer prunes and shrivels from prolonged contact with water, rather it smooths over, soaks the water up; absorbing, swelling, growing. As I shapeshift, I spill, leaking and exposing my feeling body. I swallow you and the acid in the soil, giving in and losing myself to a salty secretion that dries me out. We cannibalise each other, transmuting and becoming zombified by our consumption.