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.