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.