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.