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.