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.