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.