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.