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.