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.