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.