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.