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.