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.