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.