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.