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.