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.