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.