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.