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.