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.