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.