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.