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.