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.