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.