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.