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.