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.