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.