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.