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.