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.