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.