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.