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.