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.