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.