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.