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.