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.