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.