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.