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.