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.