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.