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.