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.