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.