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.