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.