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.