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.