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.