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.