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.