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.