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.