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.