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.