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.