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.