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.