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.