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.