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.