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.