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.