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.