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.