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.