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.