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.