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.