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.