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.