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.