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.