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.