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.