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.