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.