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.