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.