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.