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.