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.