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.