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.