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.