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.