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.