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.