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.