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.