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.