The Earth on Our Backs \\ Asha Beck
Or maybe as a snake, constantly perceiving everything except itself. In some ways I am the tree, letting life happen to me, letting go of branches when they become too heavy. And some ways I am the snake, shedding tears and blood naturally as though they are my skin. I strive to let goof the body its ties, its monotony; everything it puts on to wear some sense of self. I am not a constant self, but that’s just existence.
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