Lying          
           In   My   Room,          
  Arms Flopped Over The Edge Of The Bed. 
       Something Poking My  Left Hand, 
                  Something     Slimy, 
       Slithering  Around The Fingers, 
           Up   The   Arm.          
 Is   It  Drug-Fueled   Apathy?        
         I   Don'T   Move   The   Arm. 
                                 
 Whatever  It Is That'S Tasting Me,    
 It    Moves   Further   Up,           
 Reaches    The    Armpit.             
 I  Turn  My  Head  Toward   It.       
             Looks   Like    Seagrass. 
         It'S  Kinda   Cute.        
                                 
      Once It'S  Up My Neck And  On My 
 Face,    I    Bite    It.             
      The  Texture Is  Like That Of  A 
 Juicy                          Grape, 
      And The Squish Tastes Like Sweet 
                     Cucumber.     
     It'S Very Good.    And I    
 Suck   More   Of   It    In.          
             Chew   It.             
    The Seagrass Doesn'T Seem To Mind. 
                                 
     Apathy  Gone,   I  Sit  Up.      
     The  Tendrils Are Stuck Under    
   My  Shirt,    Entering  By The Arm 
 And  Exiting  Through  The  Collar.    
     This  Makes It Hard For Me To Push 
 More  Of   It   In   My   Mouth.       
   I Make To  Remove The Shirt, But The 
 Seagrass Finally Protests When I Try  To 
 Move     My     Left    Arm.           
     So  -  Eating  It   Is  Ok,      
        Moving  It  Is  Not.