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.