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.