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.