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.