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.