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.