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.