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.