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.