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.