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.