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.