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.