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.