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.