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.