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 
    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.