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.