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.